


Invictus

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Drama, Explicit Language, F/M, First Time, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex, Suspense, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-02
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2018-10-01 12:36:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 100,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10190042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Severus's POV of the epic Nights of Gethsemane. When the Dark Lord captures Potter, Severus is forced to do his best to protect Potter whilst remaining in the Dark Lord's favour.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

_There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night._

"The Dark Lord has Potter!"

For nearly half of his life, Severus Snape had lived in fear of those words. It had begun with the father, when Severus had done everything in his power to make sure he wouldn't have to hear those words, even though he didn't care at all about the Potters, only her. The best he could do simply hadn't been enough and, when he'd heard the news whispered around Knockturn Alley, he'd been irreparably shattered. There was nothing to do but to try to follow Albus's advice and make certain that her sacrifice was not in vain. It was not an easy task, mostly because the brat had always seemed determined to finish the job for the Dark Lord. 

When the boy left the home where Lily's protection kept him safe, Severus had known it was only a matter of time before those words came true. So certain had he been that the Dark Lord would eventually capture Potter that now, as he stared at Amycus Carrow panting in his doorway, he didn't feel the same devastation that had washed over him the night Lily died. The moment wasn't filled with the pain and horror that had woken him at night, leaving his sheets wet from sweat. Instead, there was only a sense of relief that the end was finally beginning and he didn't have to wait around for it anymore.

He turned that fleeting sense of relief into a slow smile and said, "Excellent. Where is the brat?"

"The Malfoys'," answered Amycus, his blind admiration for the Malfoys shining in his eyes. 

Severus stood. "I'll be joining the Dark Lord at this moment of triumph. I expect you and your sister to prepare a celebration for tonight in the Great Hall."

Amycus's head jerked up and down like a puppet. "We'll celebrate of course!" He disappeared, the door slamming shut behind him. 

Avoiding Albus's eyes, Severus pulled on his travelling cloak. Ever the pessimist, he didn't even have the satisfaction of gloating that he'd been right, for this was not something one could gloat about - no matter how right he'd been. 

"Severus," said Albus, his voice tight. "You must help him."

For a moment, Severus considered refusing as the old anger bubbled towards the surface. Typical. He wasn't allowed to know all the plans, but he was expected to pick up the pieces when those poorly constructed plans fell apart. Had he not warned of this? Had he not said that three children who had yet to graduate Hogwarts were no match against the Dark Lord and his devout followers?

Allowing his frustration to bleed into his voice, he asked, "Help him to die?" as he glanced back at Albus.

"It's too soon," said Albus, his light blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on Severus's. "There's still much he needs to do. Take my wand."

Much that Potter needed to do but would never do. Much that was expected of Severus despite the fact that he was never, ever trusted; never considered more than a liability, an object to be expended at the earliest convenience. However, there was no point in rehashing the past. He hadn't the time anyway. He gave a short nod and hurried out the door. Two wands were always better than one in a fight and, although he was loathe to fight with another's wand, Albus's wand had given him considerable power. 

As most of the students were away for the Easter holidays, Severus didn't bother taking the halls, but used the window. Flying took a considerable amount of energy and willpower, but he needed to hurry. 

Casting concealment spells on himself, he crept toward Albus's tomb and - without looking at Albus's body - broke through the wards and stole the wand - as quickly as he could without leaving any trace. Although there was no reason that Albus's tomb should be guarded, he'd lived too long to take chances and only Apparated away once the wand was safely in his robes and he could be sure that no one would ever know he now had two in his possession. 

Although it only took him five minutes to leave Albus's grave and head to a point just outside Malfoy Manor, his improved Apparition needed to remain a secret if he were to have any chance of escaping. As the minutes weighed him down, he fingered the various potions in his pockets, testing and re-testing his memory as to the use of each one. How would he grab the boy from under the Dark Lord's nose? How would he fight his way through Malfoy's wards? How would he find a place to deposit the boy in safety? He, himself, would not live long after defying the Dark Lord. The mark on his arm made sure of that. Despite his best attempts, he hadn't yet figured out how to remove it, and he'd never be able to hide as long as the Dark Mark chained him in place.

Death did not scare him. Failing her did.

For far too long, he stood hidden on the grass, making and discarding plans, hating himself, Albus, the Dark Lord, but most of all, the stupid, stupid brat for being so utterly _useless_. Finally, he reckoned that enough time had passed and enough confusion ruled the Manor to grant him entrance without questions greeting his arrival. 

Changing his features to those of confident triumph, he strolled onto Malfoy's property, pretending that he didn't know where the wards truly began.

He hoped that he'd been one of the first to hear the news, but other figures were moving across the lawn and more were entering through the main doorway.

He had no decent plan of attack.

He gave a smile and a nod to Avery who returned the gesture.

He couldn't fight them all.

He greeted Narcissa and exchanged the common pleasantries before stepping into the room where a crowd was gathered, circled around the centre like vultures around prey.

He hadn't the healing potions to repair the damage. 

He took in the room, the dozens of Death Eaters gathered, and the growing number of those arriving, and the Dark Lord standing triumphant, surrounded by earnest followers.

He'd never escape with Potter. 

Ignoring the strange, wet-sounding noises that were probably screams, Severus strode straight to the Dark Lord. 

"My Lord." He bowed the required amount, the perfect blend of admiration, fear, and hunger filling his voice and face. When he rose, he shared a nod of acknowledgement with Lucius, exchanged glances with Mulciber's father, and ignored Bellatrix. The fact that Lucius and Bellatrix were standing by the Dark Lord and not down there with the boy could only mean that they'd already had their turns. 

He'd never, ever be able to heal him.

"Severus." The Dark Lord's face twisted in a look that was probably meant to be a smile. "So good of you to join us. This must be a dream come true for you."

"I have dreamt of this often, my Lord." If he hadn't taken his special version of Dreamless Sleep every night for the past seven years, it would have most likely been true. Knowing that he'd never be able to escape with Potter, Severus changed his tactics. "Although I hesitate to request such a thing in the moment of your triumph, I feel I would be failing you unless I requested a private audience."

Bellatrix cackled. "Intend to beg for the baby Potter's life?"

Severus ignored her. To the Dark Lord he said, "I've recently come into some information which may prove useful to your Lordship."

The senior Mulciber had never liked Severus as much as the son. "There is no reason to keep it private," he said, looking down his nose as much as a shorter man could. "We are all loyal supporters of the Dark Lord."

The Dark Lord said nothing, only looked at Severus expectantly, and Severus knew his chances of getting a private conversation were very slim. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I have reason to believe that Dumbledore suspected that Potter's death would harm your Lordship."

Bellatrix let out a loud snort and cried, "A likely story!" 

Unable to contain himself and because he knew it would amuse the Dark Lord, Severus snapped, "Quiet, you stupid bitch!"

She puffed herself up to return the insult, but the Dark Lord, his unnatural eyes never leaving Severus's, raised a hand and said, "Let him speak, Bella," and she cast those simpering eyes on him that made Severus want to be sick all over her robes.

Continuing to weave his tale, Severus said, "As I was searching through his desk, I cast a few spells which revealed writing that has been imprinted upon other parchment by accident. I found some writing, which I then transcribed to a scroll." Reaching into his robes, Severus pulled out one of his private potion collection data sheets which contained nothing but numbers. Handing it to the Dark Lord, he said, "It's code. It's based upon a Muggle encryption system whereupon prime numbers, that is, natural numbers that are only divisible by one and themselves-"

As Severus had expected, the Dark Lord didn't let him get far. His eyes had already begun losing interest with the word 'Muggle' and already he was impatient to know the reveal. "What does it say?"

Severus displayed an expression of confusion and humility. "I'm afraid I don't exactly know for certain - it's highly complex."

Bellatrix snorted and Severus imagined grabbing her by the hair and slamming her into the marble floor over and over again until there was nothing left of her skull. 

Instead of living out the delicious fantasy, he simply said, "It's in reference to the situation with the Diary." Lucius's face displayed no reaction but Severus knew the reminder was an unwelcome one and could only hope his friend would forgive him. It would be insulting to the Dark Lord's intelligence to pretend that he didn't know about the Horcrux situation, but too much information given would be seen as a threat that needed to be neutralized immediately. He had to show himself to be discreet and give just enough to let the Dark Lord work it out without allowing Lucius or Bellatrix to get a hint. It was suicide to let the Dark Lord know he knew about the Horcrux, but it was a gamble he had to take. He'd kept himself alive this long and he was fairly confident he could prove himself worthy enough to keep alive for at least a few more weeks. Carefully, he said, "In the notes, Dumbledore seems to speculate that the reason the brat was able to speak Parseltongue and gain entrance to the Chamber was that your spell was so powerful, it broke through the brat's mother's protection and gave him some of your abilities. When you took his blood, you reinforced the bond between you." 

Thankfully, the Dark Lord wasn't an imbecile and that was all Severus needed to say to make the red eyes narrow slightly. 

"I see," he said. Turning to the jackals still surrounding Potter he said, "Release him." The crowd parted and Potter, who had been floating in the air, fell to the floor with a sickening crack when his skull collided with the marble.

_Definitely_ not enough potions to heal all the damage. It didn't matter anyway. It wasn't as if the boy had ever bothered or needed to use any part of that thick matter between his ears. 

"My faithful servants," said the Dark Lord. "I think it would be a shame to get rid of the new toy so soon after acquiring it. There are many uses to be found for it yet. Jugson, fetch the best Healer you can find."

"Certainly, my Lord." Jugson bowed and scurried away.

Both Bellatrix and Lucius wore calculating expressions as they stared at Severus. Lucius would try to pry the information out of him over several friendly conversations. Bellatrix would continue trying to destroy him. She would never trust him, but he preferred it that way. She was the perfect villainess for him - too stupid to cause any real harm, but dogged and trusted enough that the Dark Lord would consider him almost completely 'under watch' and therefore less likely to need extra surveillance. 

His reptilian eyes searching Severus's, the Dark Lord said, "There must be a celebration at Hogwarts tonight. Everyone must know."

"Of course, my Lord," Severus readily agreed. "I've already put in the order. If I have your permission, I would like to show him off in front of the students as proof of your triumph and as an example." Letting a dark smile cross his face, he added, "Once he's healed, he can be tortured in ways that won't harm his body."

"The world will know of my triumph," said the Dark Lord and Severus doubted the boy would ever be let anywhere near Hogwarts again. He didn't care; his primary duty was to the school. Getting the Dark Lord to kill the boy would be a challenge now that the Dark Lord was aware of the Horcrux, but he was sure he could devise a way.

Always one to kiss arse, Lucius asked, "Shall I invite reporters here tonight?"

"No," said the Dark Lord. "Only the faithful deserve to be in my presence tonight. We will show them our prize tomorrow. Send the Ministry officials and reporters to Hogwarts. Severus can show them what he's done with the castle as well as report on the victory." 

Rather, the Dark Lord wanted to carefully screen everyone he let anywhere near Potter. Severus didn't mind. The Carrows were running rampant through Hogwarts which couldn't end well. He needed to go back and prepare for the celebration, as well as plot with Albus on how to get the Dark Lord to kill Potter. 

He said, "I will set to work on that immediately." Bowing properly to the Dark Lord and ignoring Lucius and Bellatrix, he turned and strode from the room.

~

Shutting the door to the Headmaster's office behind him, Severus slowly shrugged out of his cloak before setting up privacy wards with a deliberate sluggishness. It was petty to ignore Albus and force him to ask the questions, but sometimes those tiny victories of force were all he had.

Never one to tolerate being left in the dark for long, Albus asked, "What happened?"

"I told the Dark Lord about the Horcrux."

Albus sucked in a fake breath and Severus snapped, "Do you think I had another choice? Your miserable mess of a plan was doomed to fail from the start." Unlocking the liquor cabinet, Severus fixed himself a whiskey on the rocks. 

"Where is Harry?"

_Are you still trusted? How did you convince him? Did he torture you?_ There were never any of those types of questions and Severus didn't know why he bothered being bitter after all this time other than through force of habit. Taking a gulp from his glass, he dropped into his chair and said, "The _child_ is at the Manor and has most likely been damaged beyond repair. I can still convince the Dark Lord-"

"You must take care of him."

You must. Always you must. Swiveling around in his chair to look at Albus's portrait, Severus said, " _I_ must remain at Hogwarts and the Dark Lord would _never_ allow the boy to be brought here - not when so many of his allies lurk about."

Albus said, "Harry is our primary concern. Without him Voldemort will never be defeated. Hogwarts will survive without you - Harry will not." 

Exasperated, Severus bit out, "Potter _won't_ survive. That's the point. It doesn't matter what they do to him as long as the hand that delivers the final blow belongs to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord will do his best to heal him and I'll do my best to make sure the Dark Lord kills him."

For several heavy seconds Albus didn't respond, then he quietly said, "There's a chance Harry will live."

It was enough to knock Severus speechless and, for a moment, he could do nothing but sit there like the stupidest first year, staring at Albus's portrait with a blank face. Hadn't Albus said over and over again that Potter _must_ die? Hadn't Albus forced him to agree to the plan out of respect for Lily because the idea that Potter could survive was beyond all hope? Lies upon lies! He didn't know which of his masters was worse - at least the Dark Lord never pretended to be anything but a manipulator. Albus was the most masterful manipulator of them all, holding his cards close to his chest as he led you straight to the sacrificial altar with a kind smile. 

Severus didn't mind being sacrificed as long as it supported the cause and there was no other option. He did mind being lied to. 

Albus knew this and therefore said nothing, simply waiting for the explosion. 

If Albus had been alive, Severus would have been more dramatic in the demonstration of his outrage, but a portrait simply wasn't a proper target for a fit. It was too easy to destroy. Pinching his nose as he closed his eyes, he said, "You said his death was necessary to defeat the Dark Lord."

Calmly, Albus replied, "I didn't want to get your hopes up."

Severus snorted. Hope? When had he ever had that since she died? The only reason of which Severus could think for the lie was that Albus had wanted him to believe the outcome was futile in order to give his all to protect the boy. After all, if the boy only needed protection until the moment of his death, there was no reason for Severus to work hard to remain alive in order to continue to protect him. Shooting an accusatory glare at the portrait, Severus said, "If you want me dead, Albus, there are far easier ways to go about it." 

Albus's brows drew close together. "That wasn't why I didn't tell you."

"Then _why_?" Severus hissed. "Why? Don't give me that bullshit about 'my hopes'. You've never given a damn about them before."

Sighing, Albus stroked his beard. "In order for Harry to survive, certain factors must be in play. The Horcrux must be destroyed by Voldemort without any harm coming to Harry himself. It's nearly impossible, but not entirely. Besides, Harry hasn't finished the task I've entrusted to him."

" _I'll_ finish that task," declared Severus. "And you will tell me about it. Now."

"Severus-" Albus began, but Severus didn't let him finish, cutting him off with a wave of his hand. 

In a cold voice he said, "I'll get the answers from you or from him. It's your choice."

Albus sighed, but he wasn't willing to let his golden boy get hurt and he said, "He needs to finish hunting down the other Horcruxes."

Relieved and disappointed, Severus said, "That's it? Did you really think I thought the brat to be the only Horcrux?"

"No, Severus," said Albus in his best professor's voice. "I refused to give you confirmation for fear Voldemort would take that information and - don't look at me like that Severus - I still believe those fears to be well-founded."

Anger bursting through his gut, Severus said, "I could have helped him."

"You did."

"I sent him one bloody Patronus! This could've been over months ago!"

"Severus, please," said Albus and he managed to pull off that small, sad child look that Severus hated. He hated children, so he had no idea why it worked on him, just that it did, even as much as he willed it not to. He turned away to stare at his drink as Albus said, "I couldn't allow the chance that the Dark Lord would learn of Harry's task-"

"So you gave it to a stupid child who can't master Occlumency?"

"So I kept you in the dark to make certain there was only so much Voldemort could take from you."

Or that Severus could tell the Dark Lord. The argument was pointless. Albus would do his best to convince him and Severus knew him too well to believe it. He always came to the same conclusion in the end - Albus played to win, himself or Potter be damned. It was nice to believe otherwise for a short while, but in the end, he had only himself to fully rely on when it came to protecting Potter. Massaging his temples, Severus asked, "How can I ensure that Potter lives?"

"You must make sure that you stay close to him. I know you are reluctant to leave Hogwarts, but he's a child thrown into a den of wolves. They'll tear him to pieces."

Severus didn't need to be told that. "I must do as well in order to maintain my cover. The boy you knew will be destroyed - if he isn't already."

In his fatherly tone, Albus said, "You're a skilled liar, Severus. I'm sure you'll manage to find a way to limit the damage they will inflict on him. First, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger need to be found and kept safe. As long as you protect their lives, they can be used to help hunt the rest of the Horcruxes. Second, you need to convince Voldemort to give you some control over Harry's care in order to prepare him for his escape and for the completion of his tasks. Make sure that he is healed as much as possible. Finally, Hogwarts must be protected while you are away."

He'd planned to defend Hogwarts to the death if need be and he'd always thought that Albus had intended the same. The only reason Albus would tell him to abandon his post now - even temporarily - was that Potter needed him more. Although Potter had once been the only thing that mattered, ever since he'd learnt of the boy's fate, he'd focused his attentions on Hogwarts and now he couldn't help but say, "If I leave, the Carrows will be in control." Although Hogwarts' laws prevented them from taking over the position of Headmaster - only a former professor with tenure could become Headmaster - he would no longer be able to effectively temper their cruelty and stupidity.

"I know," said Albus, his face pinched. "But we have no other choice."

~

The celebration was easy enough to prepare and did nothing to impede Severus's plotting to gain another audience with the Dark Lord. Surprisingly, the Dark Lord sought him out even before he had a chance to begin his campaign.

Hurrying to Malfoy Manor an hour before the party was scheduled to begin, Severus swept past the small crowd still gathered in the foyer, back to the sitting room where the Dark Lord was sitting with Lucius.

"Severus," the Dark Lord said the moment he entered the room, "Is everything prepared?"

Bowing low, Severus answered, "All the guests have been invited and the speeches prepared. Will your Lordship be attending?"

"I will not. Lucius will aid the Carrows in making a celebration befitting our victory. You will come with me to the location where the boy will be kept."

Although Severus knew he was supposed to argue for this point, it was hardly what he wanted and he let some of his displeasure show. After all, _he_ was the Headmaster and this was an opportunity for him to show off his power. Not to mention that the Dark Lord's hurry and authoritative tone suggested to Severus that he was to remain with Potter for longer than a simple examination. "You wish . . . . for me to examine him?" Better to pretend he suspected less than he did.

"I will entrust you with being his guardian," said the Dark Lord.

Lucius's mouth thinned ever so slightly and, for the first time, Severus noticed the tightness in his eyes. He wanted control of Potter. Why, Severus couldn't begin to imagine, but if Lucius should let him see his displeasure, then it could only mean Lucius wanted Severus to see how much he desired the position and grant it to him. Unfortunately, Severus needed to be Potter's guardian - no matter how much he didn't want to. Still, hurrying to accept the position would be seen as suspicious.

As outwardly submissive as he could be, Severus said, "But my Lord, I cannot brew for you if I am away from Hogwarts, I-"

"I'll have a lab built for you," said the Dark Lord, and Severus knew that no amount of arguing would save him from the post. At the same time, the mention of the lab sent a thrill of delight through him. As long as he proved himself useful, the Dark Lord wouldn't try to kill him immediately. He surely would eventually - Severus knew too much - but through brewing, Severus could prove himself indispensable - at least for the time being.

Lucius sipped his wine, gazing at Severus expectantly, but Severus couldn't argue for his friend - even if he'd wanted to. With what Severus knew and the boy so valuable, the Dark Lord could not be persuaded against his current course of action. 

"I'll gather my supplies, my Lord." Severus turned to leave.

"I'll have your supplies sent to you," said the Dark Lord.

Fuck. He wasn't even trusted to return to Hogwarts when he'd just left it the moment before? Or was it just a sign of the Dark Lord's impatience? 

"Forgive me, my Lord, but I've placed my most important belongings under seals of protection. They can't be touched by another without causing harm. I understand that you wish to hurry and I can guarantee that I'll have everything important ready in one hour." The Dark Lord's mouth tightened, but Severus hurried on, "My private potion supplies should only be touched by an individual who has experience dealing with dangerous, volatile substances. I'd prefer to handle them myself, but if that isn't possible, I can provide you with a list of Potions Masters I trust. There are many ingredients that I require if I am to be able to brew the type of potions your Lordship will find most useful, and the more time I have to collect them, the more I can bring."

As the Dark Lord trusted very few himself and wanted only the best for his personal potions, he relented and said, "You have two hours. Bring as many potion supplies as you are able. As the boy will be easy to watch, I'll expect you to brew even more for me than I currently ask."

"Certainly, my Lord." Giving a low enough bow, Severus turned on his heel and hurried from the room as fast as he could. Two hours wasn't nearly enough time, but it would have to be sufficient and, if he asked for more, he'd most likely be given an escort.

The last thing Severus wanted was an escort. 

At Hogwarts, there wasn't much he really needed to do, since he'd been prepared for the possibility of immediate escape for years and already carried his most important belongings with him everywhere. As he was shoving as many extra books, scrolls, and potions into his pockets as time would allow him to gather, Albus said, "I know that you and Harry have had a lot of conflicts in the past, but-"

Unwilling to hear a long speech about how he should give his all for the witless boy, Severus interrupted with, "Your saviour has nothing to fear from _my_ hands. And yes," he added before Albus could speak again, "I'll do my best to ensure that he doesn't off himself too early. _That_ will be the true challenge in this - saving the boy from himself."

Normally quick to rise to the defence of his golden child, Albus said nothing. 

After he'd packed the basics, Severus called the house-elves. "I shall be leaving Hogwarts," he told them. "While I am gone, you are to see to it that each student remains free from harm. If you believe that a student is in danger of death or serious harm, take him or her to a safe spot straight away." The act would save more Gryffindors than Slytherins, but he could always give the Dark Lord the excuse that he didn't expect Gryffindors to be viewed as in danger enough to need to be saved. After he'd sent the house-elves away, he called in the students that had stayed over the Easter holidays. He wished there were more of them, but he had to make do. 

In his best 'angry professor' voice, he said, "I'll be temporarily leaving Hogwarts. I'll remain Headmaster and while I'm gone, you _will_ treat the Carrows with as much respect as you show me. If I hear that you are causing trouble-" he glared at the two remaining Gryffindors. "-I'll punish you when I return."

They all nodded and the Gryffindors pretended to look scared, but Severus knew that their nasty little minds were already dreaming up ways to make the Carrows' lives miserable, which was exactly his intention. He'd effectively gutted the Carrows of any authority and he doubted they had the intelligence to regain it. Unfortunately, the more creative of the Gryffindors had long since fled, but Severus had no doubt that the current batch of students could do worse than what had been done to Umbridge. 

Satisfied that Hogwarts would survive his absence and the Carrows would have a miserable time running it, Severus left for Spinner's End to pack a few more belongings. He wasn't taking much, but then, how long would it take to convince the Dark Lord to kill Potter? Maybe a month at the absolute most. Getting the boy prepared? That would be the true challenge. But there were always potions and spells to make the brat behave if he proved to be difficult.


	2. Chapter 2

  
Author's notes: Nights of Gethsemane from Severus's POV. When the Dark Lord captures Harry Potter, Severus must make some hard choices.  


* * *

When mother still hadn't emerged from her room by nine, Severus knew she wouldn't be out until late afternoon - if she came out at all. He finished his meal of beans and toast and washed the dishes, standing on a chair to reach the rusting taps. The spells for cleaning dishes weren't in the _Standard Book of Spells Grade One_ , nor in any of mother's other books kept hidden away in the trunk beneath her bed. 

Casting another glance at the closed bedroom door, Severus slipped to his room and fetched _A Beginner's Guide to Transformation_ , which he'd secreted out of mother's room the last time she left for the grocer's. Stuffing it up under his smock, he hurried to the door. Not only was studying outdoors the best way to avoid getting caught with the books in his hands, but it was also smart to avoid mother on _those_ days. 

With Gordon and his gang roaming the streets and Severus without a wand, it was best to slip away from Spinner's End as quickly and quietly as possible. Even if he had mastered wandless magic, the Muggle-loving Ministry of Magic forbade him from defending himself against bullies. 

The playground he'd found last month was perfect for his studies. Gordon's gang never encroached upon it, and it was rare that children from the surrounding neighbourhood visited. There were visitors Severus had seen on a few occasions: two obnoxious girls; an arrogant ginger and a horse-faced blonde who never shut up. But they were the only intruders on his place of solitude, and they never saw him hidden in the thicket of bushes where he read his future school books over and over again. 

To his delight, the twits weren't in sight that day and he had the park to himself. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was spying on him, Severus crept into the thicket and pulled out the book from under his smock. He'd read _A Beginner's Guide to Transformation_ cover to cover four times already, but he'd found that books made more sense the more often he read them. Selecting a twig that vaguely resembled a wand, he replicated the actions described in the book as he mouthed the incantations. 

He hadn't got far, only to the chapter on turning wood to metal, when an obnoxious shriek rent the air and he peered out between the branches of the bush he'd hidden himself inside to see that the irritating girls had returned. Wishing he knew how to set up privacy wards, Severus glared at them as he whispered every single harmful spell he knew. He wasn't foolish enough to try to attack them, but just imagining how he could hurt them, eventually, was normally enough to make any encounter with a Muggle tolerable. 

When the girls didn't pass through the playground but planted themselves on the swings, Severus let out a faint groan and wiggled further into the bushes. He positioned himself in a place where he could watch the girls, yet slip out the back if need be. 

Propping his book up so he could keep an eye on them as he read, he returned to the chapter. _As with other forms of transfiguration, it is important to keep in mind that the object-_

A squeal distracted Severus and, irritated, he glanced up from his book in time to see the ginger fly through the air off her swing and land perfectly, lightly on her feet, her arms raised as if she had won a great victory. He hadn't been paying attention to her swinging, but her landing point was much farther from the swing set than he would've thought possible. The look on her face was a mixture of shock and delight and she turned back to her friend and in a voice breathless with excitement called, "Tuney, did you see that?" 

"See what?" Tuney squinted at the ginger. She was swinging slowly, her periwinkle blue dress not the least bit mussed, unlike the ginger's dirt-smeared trousers. 

"I flew," said the ginger, eyeing the distance as if she couldn't believe she had travelled that far on her own. 

"You didn't," contradicted Tuney, her lips drawing together in a sour pucker. "You know what mummy said about making things up." 

If she was perturbed by this accusation of lying, the ginger didn't show it. She returned to the swing and swung higher and higher, both Tuney and Severus watching her, Tuney in growing horror, Severus in curiosity. 

The ginger's legs kicked up high, pulling her so far up with each swing, it looked as though she might rise above the metal rod at the top of the swing set at any moment. 

"Stop!" shrieked Tuney. "Lily, you mustn't!" 

But Lily ignored her and jumped. 

Tuney screamed and Lily fell. It wasn't the graceful dismount and soft landing Severus had seen earlier. She crashed into the dirt, tumbling over, her hair flipping in front of her face. Even though he’d never liked girls (they were far too noisy and giggled constantly), Severus's gut still tightened at the sight of her smacking into the earth. For a moment, he held his breath as Tuney slowed her swinging. 

But Lily raised her head and her almond-shaped eyes were filled with surprise rather than pain. She picked herself up, brushing off the dirt and the bit of blood that trickled from her left elbow. When she turned back to look at the swing set, she frowned and stood, hands on her hips, studying the swing as if she could determine by looking at it why she had flown the first time but not the next. 

Tuney had finally slowed her swing enough for a dismount that held no danger whatsoever, and she rushed to her sister's side. "Don't ever do that again!" 

"I won't," said Lily in a tone that convinced neither Severus nor, judging by the look on her face, Tuney. 

"Let's go home," suggested Tuney and Lily allowed herself to be led away, giving the swing set one last glance before they both left the playground. 

Still hidden in the bushes, his heart hammering inside his chest and his book completely forgotten, Severus watched them leave. 

She could've swung higher the first time. She could've just gotten lucky. But no matter how he tried to rationalise it, in his gut he knew. He'd known from the moment he saw her land, from the look that spread across her face when she realised that she was different, that she wasn't like the others. 

When dusk started to settle and he finally returned home, all he could think about was Lily.

~ 

After Severus finished gathering his belongings and tying up loose ends, he returned to the Manor.

The Dark Lord was waiting for him. Ever paranoid, he took Severus on a confusing, ridiculous path full of portkeys and side-along Apparition. As far as Severus was concerned, it was a useless measure. He'd find out where the boy was being kept in a few days’ time, if that. 

Finally, they arrived in the middle of a kitchen and the Dark Lord released Severus's arm as if burnt by the contact. It was a kitchen in a home: a Muggle one by the look of the appliances; a mostly unused one judging by the stale feel of the air; a rural one judging by the number of tinned goods designed to feed the occupants when trips to the market were few and far between. All the labels of the tins and appliances Severus could see were in English, but that didn't mean much. 

The Dark Lord didn't pause long enough for Severus to get a good look around but strode through one of the two doors, out into a hallway carpeted in plush sienna. At the opposite end of the hallway, the Dark Lord opened a door, leading into a den with a wood-burning stove perched against one wall. Mountains, somewhere. Severus sniffed, hoping to be able to tell the type of wood found nearby, but none had been burnt recently.

Potter lay on a wooden table in the centre of the room, surrounded by medical equipment, a Healer fluttering around him while Macnair, tucked into an overly plump armchair, kept watch with a critical eye.

"I want him restored to normal," ordered the Dark Lord, taking both Severus and the Healer in his sharp gaze. "Macnair." 

Macnair stood, sweeping by Severus on his way out after the Dark Lord. 

The Healer, a heavy-set man with bursts of grey hair curling around the back of his head, avoided Severus's eyes as he wiped sweat from his brow. 

"What needs to be fixed?" Severus asked as he strode forward to get a better look at the patient. 

The Healer gave a short bark of despair. "What doesn't?"

If Severus hadn't known that it was Potter who was lying on the table, he never would've guessed. The boy's face had been peeled away, the lips entirely destroyed and the ears removed. Teeth bared in a bizarre grin dominated the lower half of his face, topped by the dark cavity and small point of bone that represented the nose. The eyes, eyes Severus had devoted his life to, had been torn out, leaving two empty bowls of white in their place. Thick clumps of the annoying, tangled shock of black hair remained, caked with dried blood where it hadn't been removed enough to reveal the white of the skull. Potter's body faired better in that none of his limbs or extremities were missing, although his right hand narrowly clung to his arm by a single sinew and his legs had been switched with his arms.

While he was observing Potter, Lily filled his thoughts. _If you had known what would happen, you would never have married him._ He told her that often, but only now did he really mean it. Thankfully, she wasn't alive to see what had happened to her child, to see what _would_ happen to her child. Severus would do his best to protect him, of course, but there was only so much he could do.

"I can't get them right," muttered the Healer when he noticed Severus's gaze on the juncture of Potter's upper arms and his groin. 

It wasn't the worst Severus had ever seen, but it was the worst by far where a full recovery was expected. "What are his chances?" 

The Healer gave a groan and muttered, "Impossible! I've been using spells to keep him alive. Even with my best potions, there's still damage I can't set right. Too much spell damage." 

Although Severus had been a Death Eater long enough to know most of the spells and remove their effects, the boy's body was too far gone for him to repair the damage in a few days. He would have to resort to drastic measures. Removing his outer robe and rolling up his sleeves, he said, "I'll give him the Draught of Living Death to stabilise him while we rebuild him manually. We'll focus on putting everything in its proper place, then we'll heal him." 

The Healer shook his head. "The Draught won't work, he's too close to death." 

He'd been preparing for this. He shot the Healer a sharp glance. "Fetch a tub." 

The Healer paused, then, apparently realising there was no other option, hurried from the room. 

Severus had never tried using the Draught on one so close to death before. It was risky, but they couldn't repair the boy the conventional way. 

While the Healer was gone, Severus rifled through Potter's discarded clothes, whispering revelation spells to find any hidden pockets. To his surprise and delight, Potter's pouch was intact and could be opened without much fuss. Slipping the mirror shard and the Marauder's Map into his pocket, he returned the other objects to the pouch and put it back inside the ruined clothes. Closing his eyes, he then picked the clothes up once more and re-found the beaded bag. This time, he tucked it into his robes. 

Shortly after, the Healer returned, floating a tub into the room. 

"Prepare a healing bath," Severus ordered as he prepared to administer his personal Draught of Living Death to Potter. It was simple enough to pour a few drops into Potter's tongueless mouth and wait until the damaged heart slowed to nothing. 

As the Healer prepared the bath, Severus cast the spell necessary to restore Potter's arms and legs and floated the boy over to the tub. After gently placing him inside, he felt around the skull to judge the extent of any head injuries. They hadn't broken through the bone, just cracked it, which was a relief. It didn't mean that the brain had escaped undamaged; they could've poured something into his skull through his optic nerve holes, but Severus doubted they'd had the creativity. 

Propping Potter's torso up, Severus used a spell to open his skull slightly more where it was cracked and poured his best healing potion inside. If he was correct in his assessment, Potter should be restored once his body had been fixed, provided the spell damage hadn't been too extensive. What would they have cast on him? The Cruciatus, multiple times. Thankfully, Severus had developed a potion for dealing with the after-effects of that. Had the face and the eyes been removed by a spell or an object? 

Closing his eyes, Severus placed his hands over the remains of Potter's face and examined the wounds. Magical damage. Heavy magical damage. Not a spell he was familiar with. Maybe not a spell? The edges of the damage were sharp, clumsy, as if an instrument had been used. A knife or some sort of weapon infused with dark magic had cut away the flesh. All that remained of the eyes were the optical nerves, but he could find no specific trace of magic along the edge. From the clumsy way the nerves had been severed, it appeared to have been done by hand. Bellatrix most likely. She probably hadn't kept the eyeballs but had torn them apart with her fingernails. No matter, he would just grow new ones. Due to the Dark Magic that had been involved in removing the tissue, the facial flesh would have to be handled differently. He'd give the boy a temporary face and the time to regrow his flesh on his own. 

Calling a chair over to himself, he transfigured it into a table and unpacked the potions he'd brought. He'd anticipated extensive nerve and flesh damage and had plenty of useful remedies, although he'd never re-grown eyes before. However, he was determined not to fail on his first attempt. 

"Make sure you cleanse the wound of Dark Magic," he told the Healer, who was examining Potter's right hand. 

"Right," said the man, although he probably hadn't considered it.

Mixing his pastes, creams, and liquids, Severus estimated the amount of each he would need, designing them as he would a potion. The eyes and flesh would have to be handled separately, but the spells shouldn't interfere with each other. The concoctions prepared, he returned to Potter's side. 

How many times had he dreamt of destroying _his_ face! He'd imagined digging his fingers into the flesh, tearing it away from the bone. He'd fantasized about crushing the skull, tearing out hair, and taking that tongue, that nasty, tainted tongue. There should be some perverse delight in seeing revenge extracted for him, even on the son, but there wasn't. Maybe it was because he needed to repair the damage. Maybe it was because she'd been destroyed in the violence as well. Whatever the reason, all he knew was that the sight of the broken child afforded him no measure of happiness, not even the sick, twisted thrill that sometimes ran through him at times like this. 

He started with the brow. It was thin with room to grow, a gentle slope. The nose he could shape by sight or touch, narrow giving way to wide, with a small upturn at the end. The cheekbones were covered in a small amount of flesh, giving the cheeks their thin, narrow look. The lips were full, almost girlish in their plumpness, although there was something decidedly masculine about the set of the lips. The proud jaw and gently pointing chin gave the otherwise boyish features a measure of masculinity that spoke of the future man still growing underneath the skin. It wouldn't do to fill the areas around the eye sockets until the orbs grew back, so he focused on the ears, on their soft folds and sharp protrusions. The earlobes weren't connected - a dominant trait she'd given him - and he filled in their plumpness before carefully carving away excess bits of flesh. Onto his canvas he placed slight imperfections. A tiny scar across his right cheek. A mole that dotted his jawline. The scar that stood for everything he was. 

Severus almost didn't fix the voice box and ripped-out tongue. The brat couldn't annoy the piss out of him if he couldn't talk. However, the Dark Lord might want to hear him beg. 

He double-checked his work against the pictures from the Prophet that the Healer had dredged up from somewhere, but he didn't need to make any modifications; the boy before him was the same one who existed before. As the flesh needed to set, he turned his attention to the eyes. 

Transfiguring a stool, he adjusted the tub so as not to let physical limitations interfere with his magic-casting. This would take some time and he needed to concentrate. The Healer worked around him, reconnecting the nerves in the wrist, strengthening the bones, and restoring flesh. 

Two drops - one in each eye socket - started the process. Luckily, the optic nerve wasn't difficult to repair, but he gave the restoration of the orbs far more patience and care than he had any other process so far. Those eyes were the most important part, his entire reason for existing in this hell. 

Slowly, patiently, he stimulated their growth, drawing a masterpiece of creation from a tiny little root. When the eyeballs took shape, the irises appeared, first a bluish black, then lightening and brightening until they had changed to green. These weren't the eyes he'd lost. Hers were a pure green - Slytherin to the core. These were flecked with tiny bits of gold around the iris as if Potter's house had felt the need to make itself known. It was such a minor detail that he doubted anyone, including an idiot like Potter, would notice. They were still her colour, her shape, and if he let himself admit it, more exquisite, so he didn't bother attempting to replace them. He could do it later, when Potter was fully healed. Once the eyes were fully formed and functional, he stretched a thin layer of skin over the orbs, and filled in the flesh around the eye sockets. The hair would grow back in time. If it were a little more unruly, no one would ever notice the difference. 

Although the hardest part was past him, there was much left to be done. 

"Focus on his mind," he told the Healer as he washed his hands in a temporary sink. "That's the most important part." Also the most neglected, but it wasn't as if the boy had ever needed to be anything more than a puppet. 

"Yes," gasped the Healer. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and his hands were already shaking with the strain of remaining awake for so many hours. How long had it been? His pocket watch said they'd been at work for at least eight hours, although the Healer had probably begun well before that. 

Severus transformed a sofa into a bed. "Sleep," he ordered. "You'll not be much use if you aren't rested." 

The Healer nodded gratefully and retired to the bed. Severus worked in silence until a charm he'd set up earlier activated, informing him of the arrival of visitors. He placed Potter fully in the tub and, although he was already facing the door and had Albus's wand tucked up his sleeve so that he could cast with it without pulling it out, gripped his own wand with his left hand. 

The door opened and the Dark Lord strode into the room, followed closely by Lucius and shortly after by two other Death Eaters, both of whom looked as though they had barely left Hogwarts. 

"My Lord." Severus stood, bowed, and made a show of heading towards the sink to cleanse his right hand. 

"If you see a house-elf, kill it." The Dark Lord strode over to stare at Potter, who was immersed in a thick brew of healing potions. "Prepare wards against them." 

Puzzled as to why the Dark Lord thought a house-elf would attempt to rescue Potter, Severus could only ask, "Against all house-elves or certain ones in particular?" 

"Lucius's former house-elf rescued Potter's friends," explained the Dark Lord. "It appeared in Malfoy Manor and Apparated all of them away, except for Potter. Bella managed to hit it with a poisoned knife, but we don't know if she killed it. I will not have him taken from me." 

Since when could Potter get Lucius's house-elf to obey his commands? Severus knew vaguely that the house-elf had vanished from Lucius's home, but he had no idea what circumstances had led to its loss. Lucius had been reluctant to speak on the subject. If his house-elf could be called to Potter's aid, then so could Kreacher. When Grimmauld Place was given to Potter, Kreacher had most likely changed owner as well. Severus glanced at Lucius who wore an unreadable expression on his face. Perhaps capturing Potter had not raised him in the Dark Lord's esteem with the loss of the prisoners. As much as Severus hated what he was about to do, he knew he had to do it. _Sorry, old friend_. Turning to Lucius, he asked, "After your house-elf left, did you reset your wards to prohibit its re-entry?"

The Dark Lord shot a sharp look at Lucius who raised his shoulders defensively. "I changed my wards, of course, I change them often. There is nothing in the literature to describe how to protect one's domicile from a house-elf, and Bella told me that the Black house-elf appeared in her house despite years of changes to the wards. When he wakes," he motioned to Potter, "have him call it and kill it, if it isn't already dead."

Hoping to take some of the pressure off Lucius, Severus said, "The Black house-elf is now under Potter's control as well. Lucius's house-elf is most likely dead, but Kreacher, the Black house-elf, still needs to be removed. I can brew a poison which can be administered to Grimmauld Place without anybody having to enter the house. We'll test the effect of the poison when Potter wakes. We can have him call both Kreacher and the former Malfoy house-elf. House-elves are bound to serve their masters and only death would prevent either of them from responding to Potter's appeal. We can set up a trap to prevent rescue should the house-elves appear before he wakes. I assume your Lordship would want them both killed, not captured and interrogated to gain more information on the Order?" 

The Dark Lord gave a dismissive flick of his head. "I have no questions for a house-elf. Kill them. Immediately." 

"Of course, my Lord." 

"Once the lab is complete, bring the boy there." 

"Ah, my Lord," said Severus, biting down his natural impulse to insult ignorance, "in his weakened state, I worry the fumes in the lab would harm him, much less the containment spells I would need to cast upon him. I feel that I would be of most service to your Lordship if I focused on my brewing while the Healer works on Potter. If the wards of the lab are kept separate from the brat, different concealment spells can be cast on each building, which would allow me to receive visitors-" Severus pretended that he didn't notice the flicker in the Dark Lord's eyes. "And, more importantly, fresh supplies which are essential if I am to brew here for longer than . . ." He pretended to calculate. "Twelve days. Some of the necessary ingredients I can fetch myself, others will need to be brought." 

Although he knew himself to be imprisoned just as much as Potter, Severus pretended otherwise, but only enough so that the Dark Lord could see through the deception.   
"The wards on the lab will be built separately," said the Dark Lord as though the idea was his own and had already been under implementation. "You will find a way to maintain constant supervision of the boy. If you cannot do that, the boy will be sent to your lab." 

"I believe I have a way, my Lord. Once the protection and concealment wards are in place, I'll test my method." He was certain it would work, but he'd learnt long ago to pretend that he was less skilled at magic than he actually was. The Dark Lord still asked for much - more from him than any of his other Death Eaters as far as Severus knew. Severus wasn't sure if the deception had been uncovered, if the Dark Lord enjoyed assigning difficult tasks, or if the other Death Eaters were just incredibly incompetent compared to him. As much as his ego preferred to think the latter, the other explanations were far more likely. To take attention off himself and give the Dark Lord a greater feeling of control, he asked, "Would you like us to focus on his mind or his body first?" 

The Dark Lord gazed at Severus with his reptilian red eyes and asked, "What would you focus on?" 

In the beginning, such questions had filled Severus with pride as he saw them as genuine calls for advice. Now, he knew what they were: sometimes a refusal to admit ignorance, but overall, a test of priorities, convictions and loyalties. With a silently cast spell, Severus cut the Healer and the two junior Death Eaters off from their conversation before quickly glancing between Lucius and the Dark Lord to see if Lucius should be cut off as well. 

Not even glancing in Lucius's direction, the Dark Lord said, "Lucius, that will be all for now." 

Severus didn't miss the dark glare Lucius shot him. He knew he'd need to make it up to him somehow. Once the door was shut, he said, "It is my understanding that the boy could function well as a body for possession." They both knew perfectly well this was a lie. "Should his soul be removed, your shared blood will make him ripe for possession." As far as he knew, such a thing could be true, which was the most frustrating part of it all! If only the Dark Lord and Albus didn't keep their secrets so close to their chests, he was certain he could find a way to solve the Horcrux problem without Potter having to die. As sick as it was, he suspected the Dark Lord would figure out a way to keep Potter alive before Albus thought of something. "Obviously, his body is not fit for possession while so mangled and worthless, but any attempts to possess him with his soul intact could be dangerous. Therefore, I believe the repair of his body and removal of his soul to be the top priorities." 

"Quite right," said the Dark Lord, the rare words of praise no longer filling Severus with anything more than annoyance. "I shall send Lucius by to take requests for potions ingredients." 

So now Lucius was a mere errand boy? That wouldn't last long. Lucius wouldn't stand for it. All the better for Severus if he could only convince Lucius they were better off helping each other. 

"I shall send you a list of everything I intend to brew as well as the ingredients," promised Severus. Reaching into his robe pockets, he produced the bag. "This is the only item of value I found amongst the boy's possessions." 

The Dark Lord peered inside. "Which item would you most like to keep for yourself?" 

"The photo album." It was a rare moment of complete honesty. When glancing at it earlier, he’d seen pictures of Lily and he couldn't stand the idea of Death Eater hands pawing at pictures of her. If he had thought he could get away with it, he would’ve kept the album.

Smirking, the Dark Lord reached into the bag, retrieved the item, and tossed it to Severus, who tucked it into his robes, not believing his luck. Time to push it a bit. "Will you be taking his wand for yourself?" 

The Dark Lord's smirk melted to calculation. "It will be a reward to be given later." He glanced at the sleeping Healer and at Potter in the tub. "When will the boy wake?" 

Severus hated such vague questions that could only have imprecise answers. Removing the wards, he strode to the tub and lifted the boy's body out of the healing potions. "We are focused on holding his body together. He was quite damaged before you brought the . . . amusement to a halt. At the moment, healing simply maintains his current injuries, because the Dark Magic coursing through him counteracts the healing potions. It will take at least twelve hours to remove every trace of Dark Magic in him - maybe more. Once the Dark Magic is cleared from his system, we'll reassess his injuries and have a more accurate time frame for how long it will take him to heal." Better to set standards low and reach them easily than make them too high. Severus lowered Potter carefully back into the tub. "With diligent work and excellent supplies, we should have him conscious enough for questioning within a week, and fully healed within a month." 

"A month," said the Dark Lord, looking critically at the young Death Eaters who stood silently and nervously waiting for command. "What will hasten the process?"

"High quality supplies," answered Severus quickly. "A full team of Healers to focus their attentions on his body while I focus on my brewing. I'm not trained as Healer. I know about applying and removing Dark Magic, and some anatomy, but I will be less efficient once our focus turns more to healing. I can be of far more use to you with my brewing. If I had a brewing assistant-" 

"An assistant?" The Dark Lord snorted, an action unnervingly unhuman with his slitted nostrils. "You never required such a thing at Hogwarts." 

Steadily looking at the Dark Lord and opening his mind to memories of the past conversation they had just had about possessing Potter, Severus said, "There is much more that I can do now to be of service to you than I could before. If I am to solve our . . . problem, I'll need plenty of aid." 

"Very well," said the Dark Lord, letting his displeasure show. "Have the list ready for Lucius when he arrives. I'll tell the workmen to make sure you have every ingredient and item that was contained in Hogwarts." 

"Thank you, my Lord," said Severus, giving a slight bow. If he was to brew, then he would be sure to gain every advantage he could. What he really needed was to find a way out of his duty as prison guard as soon as possible. Making sure Potter's friends were safe, coordinating the hunt for the Horcrux with incompetent and ineffective Order members, and creating strife amongst the Death Eaters would be difficult enough while he was imprisoned, much less finding a way to convince the Dark Lord to eventually kill the boy. And how to get that extra portrait of Albus..? One thing at a time. "I'll need hair, blood, and skin samples from a house-elf if I am to take care of that particular problem. Any house-elf, either sex, will do; I want to be sure the poison I develop will work on them. As long as there aren't any genetic complications, I should have the poison ready within twenty-four hours. I can spread it on the property after that. I visited the home after I took care of Dumbledore," He pushed those memories to the front of his mind, "and left an opening for myself should I ever need to return. I can't enter the property, but I don’t need to." 

What he really needed was access to Potter's memories.

Unfortunately for Severus, Potter didn't wake for another three days.

 

_Please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

"It's just like old times, isn't it?" 

Severus couldn't help but give a small smile and glanced over at Avery, who stood next to him outside Grimmauld Place. "Should I expect you to unleash Dungbombs at any moment?" 

Avery grinned back. "They aren't the most elegant of 'weapons', but you must admit they’re good for distracting the teachers." 

"Tell me about it." Severus mounted his broom. "Those brats put more effort into driving their professors mad than into their studies." Although it would be easier to fly without the broom, he preferred to limit his broomless flying so as to not reveal how proficient he'd become at it. He kicked off the pavement and flew up after Avery. 

"You must enjoy this respite from dealing with those twits," observed Avery as he gained speed. 

"Actually, as Headmaster, I rarely have to interact with the punks unless it's a matter of punishment."

"Punishment, huh?" Avery's grin turned lecherous. "That must be fun with the girls." 

Not bothering to hide his abhorrence, Severus said, "The youngest are eleven, Avery, _eleven_."

"If she's old enough to bleed, she's old enough to breed." Avery landed on the roof with a clunk. 

"That's disgusting." Severus dismounted gracefully, leaning his broom against a chimney, before pulling out his wand to draw the destabilisation runes that would allow the poison to seep into the building below, targeting Grimmauld Place. 

Avery laughed. "Don't be such a prude, Snape. When was the last time you got laid?" 

Did they really need to have this conversation? This was the very reason he rarely talked to Avery since they’d left school. "The Dark Lord-" 

"Would have us all remain celibate." Avery's eyes flickered back to Severus. "I'll tell you what. If we finish early, we'll visit Phryne's." 

A nice fuck did sound good, but Severus reluctantly said, "I'm to return to my Potions lab once I've completed my tasks today." 

Avery looked as though Severus was a starving man refusing a feast. "Bad luck, mate." 

Severus sighed. "My station should improve once Potter is awake." He reached into his travelling pouch and retrieved the low, flat jar that contained the poisonous gel, and handed it to Avery. "Open this and smear it across the runes I've drawn. It won't harm you as it is."

While Avery was busy with his task, Severus discretely poured the neutralizer into the sublimation potion. "Have you spoken to Lucius lately?" he asked casually as he cast the spells that would suck the released gas down into the buildings below. It would make the Muggles in the adjoining houses get headaches if they were home, but nothing else. 

"No, not recently," Avery mumbled, not bothering to glance up from his task. "I've never been as close as you." There was an edge to his voice that Severus couldn't quite place. 

"There was no reply to my last owl," Severus confessed. "I've been unable to determine if my owl is unreliable or if he's not had the time to answer." Avery hadn't the grace to keep his nose out of social situations that didn't concern him, and Severus had no doubt he would soon visit Lucius to attempt to gauge the strength of Lucius's friendship with Severus. 

"Try sending the owl to me," Avery offered. 

Severus didn't bother to hide his disdain as he bent down to pour the sublimation potion onto the poison-covered runes. The gel turned to dark green smoke which was sucked into the roof, the spells pulling the neutralised poison into the buildings below. "I'm only allowed access to an owl every few days. The cloaking spells haven't been fully applied and the Dark Lord is busy elsewhere." Then, as if he suddenly realised what he was saying, he quickly added, "Of course the Dark Lord isn't responsible for the delay; however, the competence of some of those who swear him loyalty leaves much to be desired." 

Avery let out a snort and teased, "Have you ever been pleased with your peers?" 

No. Never. "I don't think a decent level of competence is too much to ask." 

With the task faked as best it could be, Severus lifted the wards and headed with Avery to Knockturn Alley. To his gratitude and relief, Avery, always one to put pleasure first, decided not to tail Severus entirely through his tasks as he'd been instructed. Still, even with Avery gone, Severus's next task was nearly impossible. How to steal a copy of Albus's portrait? Albus had been both prudent and egotistical enough to request a few copies of himself. In addition to the portrait in Hogwarts, another graced a wall in the Ministry of Magic, while a third hung in the Library of Nelius. As Severus had rushed about his packing, Albus had given him instructions on where to find each one, never mind that Severus had about as much chance trying to sneak into Hogwarts as he did the Ministry. If he didn't suspect he'd be stuck in the prison with Potter for some time, he wouldn't bother with Albus's portrait. It wasn't as if he needed it; it was only because Albus had access to countless other locations through his contacts with the past Headmasters. Through Albus, Severus would have eyes and ears in every single important building in the wizarding world, and countless ones throughout Hogwarts. 

After hurrying through the shops in Knockturn, he Apparated to one of the countryside spots he used as a safe point. The abandoned cowshed was the perfect place to change his clothing and take the Polyjuice Potion. He checked his disguise in a conjured mirror, then Apparated to the front steps of the library. Nelius Library was one of the few independent libraries in the wizarding world. Most others were attached to schools or private estates. The Dark Lord hadn't seen a use for it and thus left it untouched; a delapidated building with mostly worthless decaying books.

Ideally, Severus would spend a moment in the building, pretending to browse, but the longer he stayed away from people who could confirm his whereabouts, the more suspicions would surround him. 

_A spiral staircase cuts through the room..._

Albus hadn't known for certain on which floor his portrait hung, but the building was small, and Severus had a vague idea where to go based on a previous visit. He'd already put in a request with the Dark Lord to visit the library and search its archives. All the useful spellcraft and Dark Magic books had long since been stolen, but souls were a tricky business, and he needed all the help he could get. 

The rickety, winding staircase led up to reading alcoves, where Severus spotted Dumbledore's portrait. The old coot wasn't in it, of course, but items in that section of the library matched the description given and the nearest portrait was of Euripides, just as Albus had said it would be. A witch was reading in a corner, and a silently cast monitoring spell revealed other patrons roaming through the stacks. 

Passing by the witch as nonchalantly as he could, Severus swept over to the alcove with Albus's picture and cast a spell designed to draw attention away from the subject. He took one last cautious look around the room, then set to work. Swiftly and with purpose, he pulled out a duplicate, empty painting from his robes and enlarged it. It was a simple matter to unhinge Albus's portrait and switch the two, shrinking and enclosing Albus's to fit inside his robes. Keeping a tight grip on his wand, he marched out, taking the second set of stairs. As soon as he reached the front steps, he Apparated to a different safe house, and took the potion he’d created that wore Polyjuice off quicker. With extra care, he changed back into his usual robes and travelling cloak, then Apparated away. When he arrived at the portkey, his heart sank. The Dark Lord was waiting for him. 

"Did you acquire everything you needed?" asked the Dark Lord, the tell-tale push of Legilimency pressing into Severus's mind. 

"Enough for now." Severus allowed him to go through the memories, careful to keep the ones involving Albus's portrait locked tightly away. 

Apparently satisfied with what he saw, the Dark Lord pulled away after a short perusal. The portkey took them on a winding trail, with the Potions lab as the final destination. Without prompting, Severus pulled out his viewing mirror as soon as they arrived in the lab. "He's not been moved, has he?" 

"No," confirmed the Dark Lord. "Not until he wakes." 

Enlarging the mirror, Severus cast the viewing spell as he set the mirror in its stand along the wall. Shadows danced across the reflective surface before solidifying into a view of the room where Potter lay. It only worked within the wards and from one angle, but a bird's eye view of the boy was really all they needed. 

Severus busied himself with unpacking and preparing ingredients while the Dark Lord kept a watchful eye. Never one to appreciate an audience while brewing, Severus did his best to concentrate on his work. It wasn't long before the Dark Lord spoke. "I want Potter's soul contained within an item." 

They both knew he meant the Horcrux's soul, but it was better for them both not to voice it out loud.   
Picking his words delicately, Severus said, "I've not had any experience working with souls. I will need access to as many books on the subject as possible. Have you got a particular object in mind?"

"Does it matter?" asked the Dark Lord curiously. 

"It might." Severus turned away to add cebus tails to one of the cauldrons. "A stone has different inherent properties than metal or wood. It might be easier to store a soul in a composite item, or in one as homogenous as possible. Alchemy might require that an object be designed then turned into the container. It will require a lot of research." 

The Dark Lord was silent for a few moments. "I will send you all the books you need," he said. He took one final look at the sleeping form of Potter in the mirror, then left. 

The post came, the owl, Strix, landing on the table while Severus ate. Not a single patch of parchment from Lucius was mixed in amongst the packages and letters. Was he holding some sort of grudge? Certainly he couldn't expect Severus to give him _everything_ he wanted. Severus had just as much claim to Potter as he did. Not to mention it was foolish to throw away his connections with Severus now that Severus held a higher rank than he did. Annoyed with the childishness of it all, Severus decided to 'forget' to send him the private batch of potions he gave certain individuals once a month. In the past he had bowed and scraped for Lucius's favour, but no longer. He was too highly positioned to need to stoop to that now. 

His ill mood didn't improve when he discovered that the order of Grevillea had arrived wilted, which meant he could make only one third of the amount of Nerve Calming Potion he'd intended to make. Hadn't he told the Dark Lord many times he needed to have quality ingredients if he was to brew properly? If he wasn't permitted to collect them himself, then at least someone who knew the plant should've been sent. 

Thankfully, it was shortly after he'd started on the first batch when a Healer knocked on his door and informed him that Potter should wake soon. 

Setting the boil to a lower level, he hurried after the Healer to find a crowd gathered around Potter, who was spread out on a table. The Dark Lord had found a staff of five, including three Death Eaters. It was rare to see them all awake and active at the same time. 

"His eyes are moving and he responds to physical and auditory stimuli," said one of the Healers as Severus joined them by the table. "He might even wake within the next half hour." 

Placing his hands over Potter's face, Severus explored the still-unconscious form. Yes, the boy was rousing. He hadn't the expertise to know when the boy would wake exactly, but it should be soon. That wouldn't do. Opening his eyes, he announced, "Potter will wake this evening. I estimate in . . . four hours." A potion would delay him. The head Healer frowned slightly, but the rest showed no reaction. Turning to one of the three Death Eaters, Severus ordered, "Go inform the Dark Lord that the boy will wake in four hours." To the other two, he said, "The one of you who is the most exhausted will take a sleeping potion to rest until the appointed time. The boy may require all of our assistance. The other is to prepare a meal befitting the Dark Lord. He will want to question the boy and examine his memories, which will take some time. Have it ready within the hour, just in case the Dark Lord arrives early." Turning to the other Healer, he ordered, "You should rest as well." 

With all of them out of the room, he let his attention return to the head Healer, the only one who could possibly stop him. "He'll need to be slowly eased into consciousness, else he might destroy the temporary face I've given him, and Legilimency won't work properly without the eyes. Have you any potions that will stabilise his eyes?" 

"I'll check," muttered the Healer as he turned away to sort through the piles of potions strewn across the makeshift tables. The stunning spell hit him straight in the back and he fell soundlessly. Setting up wards as quickly as he could, Severus grabbed the most effective reviving potion he could find. He might injure Potter with this attempt, but he needed to have Potter awake, under his control, and interrogated before the Dark Lord could do so himself. There was no way to do that other than to revive him early. 

It wasn't an easy task. The boy's body and mind had found solitude in nothingness and had to be forced back into existence. After force-feeding him the revival potion, Severus cast the necessary spells. 

A piercing scream tore through the room and Potter's body jerked as if yanked by countless invisible strings. Staring into those wide, glassy eyes, Severus repeated, "You will forget your capture. You will forget the torture." He cast as he talked, spells of both memory modification and suggestion, but still the boy screamed and writhed, his body jerking with so much force, Severus was forced to restrain him lest he hurt himself. 

The memories were too recent and intense. They blocked out all rational thought. Diving into the jumbled mess of Potter's mind, Severus carefully clipped away all memories of the capture and subsequent torture. They were too tightly interwoven to tease apart in such a short time, and he was forced to sever impossibly large chunks of memory as he worked. 

"You will forget any recent memories of Lucius and what he did to you." The boy stilled, his frantic screams and struggles stopping as if he was a toy that had been switched off. "You have no recent memories of Lucius." The eyes sharpened and, for the first time, Severus believed that Potter was in there somewhere. 

Now, on to the next step. His own personal potion version of the Imperius Curse could still be fought using the traditional methods, but not easily by a drugged and damaged mind. The boy was relatively astute when it came to the mental defences other than Occlumency, but he was also a piss-poor wizard and injured beyond belief. After feeding Potter the potion, Severus cast " _Imperio_ " and pushed inside the disorganised mind. Potter’s eyes glazed and he stilled. 

_Say your name_. 

In a hoarse whisper, Potter said, "Harry James Potter." 

"Good," breathed Severus. He retrieved the mirror shard and placed it on the table near Potter's hand after releasing the bindings. Quick wand work cleared the room of any identifying features and also hid the unconscious Healer. 

Turning back to Potter, Severus bent over the bed and said, "I know you have no reason to trust me Potter, but if you want your friends to live, then you must obey me." The trick to perfect control with the Imperius Curse was to not stray too far from the victim's natural inclination. Even the most devoted parent could be persuaded to kill their own child as long as you convinced them that it was for the good of the child. The less the mind had to resist, the easier the Curse took effect. Potter was stubborn and stupid enough to try to fight him even in his damaged condition, and the more Potter believed his words, the easier this would be. "Your friends will come for you and they will be caught. Malfoy is setting up a trap as we speak." Most likely true. "The Dark Lord knows what you are hunting." A lie, but the boy didn't know that. "If you try to escape, he will not stop until he's caught you and he will kill your friends along the way. You must remove them from harm's way. The Dark Lord will not kill you, not yet, but he'll not spare your friends. You need to keep them safe. Get them far away from here and into hiding and they'll be safe. Do you understand me?" 

"Yes," Potter whispered with a look of a Muggleborn visiting Diagon Alley for the first time.

Severus doubted that, but the boy was drugged and shouldn't be too much trouble. There were only two possible outcomes - success or utter failure. 

After casting a viewing spell, Severus strode from the room and set up wards and privacy spells in the hallway. Reaching out through the Curse towards Potter's mind, Severus prompted, _Summon Kreacher_ as he gazed into the room using his hand-held viewing mirror. 

The house-elf appeared with a sharp crack. A simple command and Potter would disappear, which would most likely lead to Severus's death. Pushing that thought from his mind, Severus prepared to issue the necessary orders.

Kreacher's eyes grew wide when he saw Potter. "Master Harry is terribly injured!" 

Fuck! How had the house-elf known that? He'd made sure to cover up all outward trace of Potter's injuries. Pushing with all his magical control, Severus urged Potter, _Kreacher is in danger. It is imperative that he listen to you, for he will be killed if he doesn't do exactly what you say._

Panicked, Potter said, "Please, you must listen to me Kreacher. Your life is in danger!" His words came through the mirror as clearly as if Severus had been in the room himself. 

_You have several Healers working on you. You'll get better with time. He needs to listen carefully._

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," said Potter with conviction. "They're healing me. Now, I need you to listen carefully." 

"Yes, Master Harry."

Best to start with something that Potter would hurry to obey. _Tell him he needs to protect Weasley and Granger. They should be his first priority._

"Kreacher, I need you to protect Ron and Hermione. They're in danger." 

_Take the shard and give it to him. Tell him to give it to Granger and Weasley with the message that you've escaped Lucius and you're safe. You will communicate with them through the mirror when it is safe for you to do so._

Potter's fingers curled around the glass shard with a trembling hand barely able to lift it. "I'm safe. I'll be okay. Take this and give it to Ron and Hermione. Tell them not to worry about me and that I'll be in touch through the mirror. Protect them. Don't let them get captured." 

"Yes, Master Harry." Kreacher bowed. 

_Have him go to Hogwarts to protect the school. Tell him that, from now on, when you summon him, he is to check in with Dumbledore's portrait before he comes to you. Dumbledore will tell him if it is safe to come. Tell him that if you should not summon him within a . . . week, he should rescue you._

Potter said, "Please go to Hogwarts to protect the students. Protect my friends. If I ever call you, check with Dumbledore’s portrait first to make sure it's safe. I can't lose you, Kreacher. Protect them, but be safe yourself. If you don't hear from me in a week, ask Dumbledore if I'm okay. If he doesn't know, then come for me, but only if you won't be hurt in doing so." 

Stupid boy. Didn't he know how important he was? Didn't he know how little the life of a house-elf meant in the scheme of things? _Tell him to go before he's caught._

"Go!" 

Instead, Kreacher clasped Potter's hand. "Kreacher must help Master Harry. Master Harry is terribly hurt." 

Goddamn it! _They'll kill him. He needs to leave._

Panic filled Potter's voice. "Please, Kreacher. You have to go! They'll kill you! Go! That's an order." 

A glow of white light erupted from between their joined hands and, for a heart-stopping second, Severus was sure that Kreacher would take Potter away, but then the house-elf dropped the boy's hand and vanished. 

Satisfied the house-elf was gone, Severus returned to the room and examined Potter to determine what the house-elf had done. To his amazement, the spells they'd placed around Potter's body to hold it together and keep it functioning were no longer needed. Kreacher had somehow patched him together. Potter wasn't cured, or even mostly healed, he'd just been stabilised enough so Severus and the Healers could focus entirely on curing him rather than keeping him from falling apart. 

Severus shook his head. Who knew house-elves were so powerful? 

Capturing Potter's chin in his hand and binding him to the table once again, Severus dove into his mind and cast spells as he cut out more memories. "You will forget Summoning Kreacher or else you will place his life in grave danger. You will never think of Summoning Kreacher or Dobby. You will forget what happened to Dobby. You will never think of Kreacher or Dobby." He didn't have the time to go as far as convincing Potter that Kreacher and Dobby never existed. A proper memory removal like that could take days, if not weeks, and the chance of it being discovered was too high and therefore far too risky. 

Potter didn't want to forget, so he fought, his mind rebelling and throwing up defences. His body pressed and writhed against its bindings, but Severus had done this work far too often to have his efforts thwarted by a brat like Potter. 

Once he was sure the Dark Lord would never be able to find the memories and Potter wouldn't try calling Kreacher of his own accord, Severus fed him some healing potions. He'd need his strength for what was to come next. 

After Severus had re-secured the wards, it was time to go in again. He had learnt long ago that Albus was a master of lies and manipulation. There was plenty Potter had been told that Albus had kept from Severus - even things of which Potter himself remained consciously unaware. The annoying brat had the information Severus wanted, what he needed to complete the impossible task assigned to him. Albus had no right to keep him in the dark. If he had the time, he'd do this later, but who knew what memories the Dark Lord would suppress after viewing? " _Legilimens!_ " 

Potter had never been close to becoming an Occlumens, but he'd always excelled at resisting ill-intended magic. While Potter was Gryffindor enough to be easily convinced he shouldn't escape in order that his friends might live, he had no reason to give up his secrets. His eyes rolled and sharp sparks of magic burst along his heated skin, but it didn't take much for Severus to shove through his meagre defences. 

"What do you know about the Horcruxes?" 

The Ring. A cave. Inferi. A locket. The Sword in the lake. The use of the doe made perfect sense now. Nagini. Of course, how could he not have seen it? The Cup. Another. Difficult to see. Potter had no idea about the one inside him. 

"What has Dumbledore told you about the Cup?" 

A strangled cry escaped Potter's lips and a Stinging Hex struck Severus's cheek. 

Severus tightened his grip on Potter's chin. "Idiot!" he said in a dark whisper. "The more you resist me, the more you’ll hurt yourself. I will rip it from your mind if I need to." 

For a moment, the vivid green eyes locked onto Severus's, then the lids squeezed shut. Quickly, Severus pressed his hand over Potter's nose and mouth, using fingers to hold the jaw shut in order to avoid being bitten. Magic surged through Potter, his hair standing up on end, but he was too stupid, too drugged, too unfocused to put up a proper defence, and soon he opened his eyes. Severus slid down his hand enough to allow Potter to breathe through his nose. 

A house-elf. Whose? Memories . . . that weren't Potter's? Severus inhaled sharply. Of course, the boy could see into the Dark Lord's mind! Albus had said it was unlikely the Dark Lord would allow Potter access again and Severus had agreed. Neither of them had ever imagined that Potter's visions would be so detailed, nor that the boy could see so much. Had the Dark Lord known? Probably not. Severus needed those memories. The Dark Lord would steal them.

Something wet ran along his thumb and Severus glanced down to see blood leaking from Potter's nose. "Shit." He grabbed a healing potion and poured it in, ignoring the pitiful whimpering noises that Potter was making like some small wounded animal. It would be better if he gave the boy a chance to recover - the memories would be easier to extract - but he hadn't the time. The Dark Lord could arrive any minute.

He had to go in again, and deeper. 

Severus stared deep into Potter's eyes. "I will take what I want. If you insist on resisting me, it will only cause you pain." Ignoring Potter's cries of distress, he dove in once more.

 

_Please review!_


	4. Chapter Four

When the detection charm alerted Severus to someone approaching the door, he rushed to take down the wards, remove Potter's remaining memories of the mind-plunder, free him from his bonds, put him under for another four hours, return the room to normal, revive the Healer, and remove his memories of the stunning. 

Heart pounding, Severus opened the door only to find, not the Dark Lord as he'd feared, but the Death Eater assigned to cooking, asking what drinks to serve with dinner. He sent the incompetent fool fleeing from the room in terror and slammed the door. Turning around, he found the head Healer staring at him with the same expression of abject fear. 

Perhaps he had overreacted a bit. 

Taking a deep breath, Severus forced a small smile and said, "Incompetence frustrates me." This did not seem to help the matter; on the contrary, the Healer's eyes only grew wider and his hands started shaking. Oh well. It only mattered that the Healer did his job. 

_Fuck!_ The house-elf had healed Potter further! How to cover that up? "Prepare an infusion-based healing potion," he ordered. "We're putting Potter back in the tub to prepare him for tonight. I created several potions that speed up the stabilisation process. I'll make a list of the potions I need and the desired amounts." There. Keeping the Healer busy and away from Potter for at least an hour should be enough. 

The Healer nodded and dove into the task without a word, standing as far away from Severus as possible in the small room. 

They worked in silence until Severus felt the tell-tale tug of magic on the new wards he'd set up, alerting him of the arrival of someone on the property. Not yet able to tell where the entrance occurred, the wards gave him a general idea. Somewhere near the Potions Lab. Unwilling to reveal the amount of control he had over the property, Severus ignored the arrival until the sound of heavy boot steps down the hall was unmistakable. Standing up, he absently pushed back a stray strand of hair and waited for the Dark Lord's arrival. 

The door flew open and the Dark Lord strode into the room, followed shortly by the two young Death Eaters whom Severus had sent to wait for their master. 

"He's awake?" asked the Dark Lord, his eyes on Potter in the tub. 

"Not yet, my Lord," Severus answered. "We can revive him if you wish, but he won't wake on his own for a few more hours." 

"Revive him," said the Dark Lord with a curt wave of his hand. 

The Healer, with the help of the other Death Eaters, lifted Potter out of the tub and placed him carefully on the table while Severus prepared the potion. They'd find out whether or not it was too soon to wake him after the mental damage inflicted upon him earlier. Despite his involvement in the healing, Severus doubted he'd suffer a severe punishment if the boy didn't wake. He was a Potions Master, not a Healer. 

The potion prepared, Severus stepped over to Potter's side and, cutting a small hole over his stomach, poured the potion in. 

"Leave me," the Dark Lord commanded to Severus and the two young Death Eaters.

Severus bowed and left immediately. Closing the door behind him, he questioned one of the youngsters, whose names he hadn't bothered to learn, "Where will the prisoner be kept once he's stable and awake?" 

"In the throne room." The Death Eater led Severus to the former sitting room. Harsh white marble replaced the former soft carpet and circled around a raised dais. To the left of the dais stood a small, nearly cubical, black wrought iron cage, the longest dimension of which Severus estimated to be no more than four feet. 

"Here?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow at the young Death Eater. 

"Yeah." 

"No," refused Severus. "I'll not waste my time cleaning up after him or letting him out for 'potty' breaks. Follow me." Without waiting to see if the order was obeyed, he strode to the cellar and passed the largest bedroom where the head Healer slept. The second bedroom sat between the Healer's bedroom and the bathroom. "Change that to bars," ordered Severus, pointing at the wall, "and join the bathroom to the room. I have more important things to do than clean up after that brat." 

In a meek, hesitant tone, the Death Eater voiced, "The Dark Lord said he's not allowed near anything that he can hurt himself on." 

Severus looked down his nose at the boy. "Do you expect him to hurt himself on bathroom fixtures?" 

"...He could drown." 

Unwilling to dignify such a stupid comment with a response, Severus stared at the imbecile with one eyebrow raised. 

Swallowing hard, the Death Eater looked away. "I'll see what I can do," he said before slinking off into the bedroom. 

Idiots. They were all idiots. Severus turned on his heel and headed for his lab.

He had just finished stoppering the newest batch of healing potions in their bottles when the door opened and the Dark Lord strode into the room. "Potter's memories are incomplete," he said, his voice low and deep. 

Severus allowed a small measure of surprise to grace his face as he rose from the bow he'd given the Dark Lord. "What do you mean?"

The Dark Lord approached, his steps so measured and even that he appeared to glide like a Dementor. His inhuman eyes were fixed on Severus, but there was no expression on his face. 

_Calm. There's no need to sweat. He suspects, but he doesn't know for certain_.

Halting a few feet away from Severus, the Dark Lord said, "He has no memory of his capture." 

A small amount of alarm. It was only natural he would be alarmed. There was no denying the Dark Lord suspected something and an innocent man would display both fear and alarm. _He doesn't know and he won't know unless you behave stupidly. Keep calm._ Steadily, he asked, "Do the memories appear to be damaged, removed, or broken?" 

For several breath-stealing seconds, the Dark Lord only stared at Severus; then, in a low voice, he hissed, "Tell me, Severus, how would each occur?" 

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ Stop it! _Think._ Hating the Dark Lord's stare, but unable to look away, Severus answered carefully, "If a part of his brain wasn't healed or restored, his memories will be compromised. When I examined him, I didn't see evidence of extensive brain damage; however, I am not a Healer, and I'm unable to guess as to how his brain functions or should look. I didn't see traces of Dark Magic in the tissue, but there are other ways to damage the mind." _Good, keep going._ "Removed . . . it is possible that someone deliberately took the memories." He met the Dark Lord's eyes unblinkingly. "Accidentally as well. I'd need to conduct research, but in theory it's possible for an . . . overenthusiastically used healing spell or potion to, say, smooth over areas in the brain, removing memories in the process." 

It may have been his imagination, but the Dark Lord's expression looked a bit less thunderous. 

"Memories can be broken when an individual is exposed to high levels of stress or experiences a particularly traumatic event. Sometimes the mind deliberately seals off memories that are too painful to think about. These memories are not entirely removed - they remain in the subconscious, but it will take concentrated effort to recover them. There may be other theories of memory of which I am currently unaware." 

In a low voice, the Dark Lord said, "Why did you not warn me this would occur?" 

Biting back his exasperation, Severus summoned his courage and said, "Quite frankly, my Lord, I'm amazed we restored him to the extent we did in such a short time and without full staff or equipment. The fact that he is awake now, so soon after what was done to him and cast upon him, is beyond what I had hoped when I first saw him. If I wasn't so familiar with every spell they used, it's highly probable he would've never woken, despite the best work of the Healers." 

Subtly, the Dark Lord's shoulders lowered, and his unblinking stare shifted to take in the table full of Grevillea clippings. "Have the latest packages arrived?" 

"Not yet, my Lord," answered Severus, infusing his voice with a calm he didn't feel. It was moments like these that reminded him why he needed to be free of the monster. Always teetering on the edge, never sure when the fall would come, was no way to live.

Fortunately, the Dark Lord didn't stay long and, after joining the Healers for dinner, Severus eventually retired to his bedroom. After putting up wards and privacy spells, he stripped off his outer robes, then retrieved and enlarged Albus's portrait, leaning it up against the top part of his writing desk. Albus was waiting in his frame.

"How's Harry?" 

"Alive. Recovering." Severus fetched a glass and a bottle of Scotch from his desk, pouring himself a drink on conjured ice. "He was revived today and he answered questions with his normal level of intelligence." 

"Good." Albus's posture relaxed. "And your relationship with the Dark Lord?" 

Not good at all. "Tense," admitted Severus as he dropped into the chair and took a swig. "We both avoid the subject of the Horcrux, although he knows that I know." And then, just to rub Albus's nose in it, Severus added, "He is wondering whether I was in Potter's memories before he had a chance to go in. I examined and removed some of them, and he suspected me of it, although I did my best to talk my way out of it." 

Albus sighed. "Please don't take whatever anger you hold against me out on Harry." 

Severus snorted. "Despite your opinion of me, Albus, I've kept the boy alive and mostly out of harm's way despite his best attempts to the contrary. Speaking of which - refusing to learn Occlumency might be the best thing the brat's ever done - albeit unintentionally. Several of the memories I saw in his head were the Dark Lord's and, based on the Dark Lord's reaction, I don't believe he was aware the child could see his thoughts. I had to work in a very short span of time, and I was unable to determine if Potter accessed the memories deliberately or accidentally." There was no point in describing the memories he saw. He had no idea what they meant. The blond man was as unrecognisable to him as he was to Potter. He'd investigate the matter, time permitting, but only after asking Potter a few more questions. To keep Albus in the dark and change the subject, he removed the Marauder's Map from his robe and tapped it with his wand tip. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Opening the map, he said, "I've handed the mirror shard to Kreacher to give to Weasley and Granger. I told him to make sure they are safe and they should not try to rescue Potter before returning to Hogwarts. I assume you have a way of communicating with your brother?"

Albus nodded. "I can pass Aberforth information, and he can collect it for us." Leaning forward in his chair, he fixed Severus with his sharp blue eyes and said, "I think I know what you saw in Harry's mind." 

Severus took a long, casual sip of his Scotch. "And what might that be?" 

"Lord Voldemort is seeking my wand. If he even suspects you have it, he'll kill you." 

Swirling his drink, Severus watched the ice cubes slide through the amber. "Why your wand in particular?" 

"In addition to the fact I was his most powerful opponent, I took that wand from another powerful wizard. I'm sure you've noticed it is unparalleled for a wand that did not choose you as its owner." Severus had not tried it, but he did not interrupt, he simply sipped his Scotch as Albus continued. "Voldemort will want a new wand that has proven its worth. By taking my wand, he'll believe he has triumphed over me in every way possible. You must make sure he never realises you took it." Albus paused, his intense gaze peering over his half-moon spectacles at Severus. "Did you collect the Snitch as well?" 

A dirty Snitch had occupied the bag, but Severus thought nothing of it at the time. "Should I have?" 

Sighing, Albus settled back in his chair, the look on his face the same as when he'd heard Potter had run away from the Dursleys his third year. "It is entirely my fault. I was so caught up in the moment . . . Something important is contained within that Snitch. Something Harry needs if there's any possibility he'll survive this ordeal." 

Severus knew the question would go unanswered, but he asked anyway. "And that is?" 

Albus slowly shook his head. "I'm afraid that needs to remain between me and Harry, Severus."

"I will take it from the boy," Severus threatened. 

"You can't," Albus simply said. "Even if Harry has figured out its secret, there's no way anyone can take it from him now." 

He must get hold of that Snitch! Even if Albus was exaggerating what the object inside the Snitch did, he'd do anything to prolong Potter's life. Reluctantly, he said, "The Dark Lord has it now. Any interest on my part in Potter's actions or artefacts will only make the Dark Lord suspicious, and he'll do everything in his power to find out its importance. I’ll do my best." He took another drink before adding, "If I reveal to the boy what he is, he may be able to help me." He doubted that, but he wanted to see how Albus would react to such a statement.

Albus shook his head. "Better for him to remain in the dark until he's ready. I presume you saw what tasks still remain?" 

Yes, but far too late to be of real help. Severus downed the rest of his Scotch and slammed the glass on his desk. "I saw tasks that should have been handled earlier. He's a _child_ , Albus, and you sent him and his bumbling friends on a mission to destroy the most important artefacts of one of the most dangerous wizards who ever lived."

Quietly, Albus said, "I suppose you think I should've sent you instead." 

The question cut deep, perhaps deeper than Albus intended. Why must they repeat the same tiresome arguments? Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't slept the last two nights and this topic only served to frustrate him further. "I doubt things could be any worse." 

"At least you aren't responsible for the revelation of what Harry's hunting. If the Dark Lord is better at Occlumency than you think..." 

Albus probably said it to make Severus feel better, but it didn't work. If anything, the pit in his stomach grew larger. "But the Dark Lord wouldn't _know_. With me, there is always the possibility of deception; that I've not shared the information with anyone, or even, what I show isn't real. Any conversation with you he sees in my head could be fabricated." 

A thick eyebrow shot up. "You think he doubts the strength of his Occlumency?"

"He'd be a fool not to, and I'd be a fool not to consider that possibility. A dunderhead like Potter can't hide a thing and the Dark Lord knows that. Of course, the Dark Lord will suspect us of planting false ideas in Potter's head and misleading him, but Potter could never fake a memory, and the Dark Lord never appreciated that you are a better manipulator than he is himself. Through Potter, he now knows anything and everything you've ever told the boy."

Albus sighed, "Believe me, Severus, I never intended for this to happen." 

"The road to hell, Albus," Severus said, waving his hand. "Anyway, I suspect he'll delve more frequently into my memories now that I'm imprisoned here. He's already invaded my head more these past few days than any time this past year. I think it best if I show him I can mask my memories and emotions somewhat. I won't make it easy, and I'll hide nothing too important, but important enough that there will be reason to hide them." 

Albus's brows furrowed. "He may kill you if he even suspects that possibility." 

Severus knew that, but he didn't have many choices. He answered, "I know about the Horcruxes. He'll be rid of me eventually. I need to prove my worth. Speaking of which…" He leant forward in his chair and fixed Albus with a steady eye. "You need to give me something. I need to remain in his good graces."

Meeting Severus's gaze unblinkingly, Albus retorted, "I am merely a portrait. I cannot give you anything." 

"Don't treat me like a child, Albus. You know of things . . . spells, books, potions." Although he hated doing it, he played his greatest card. "Don't make me give him Potter." 

Albus's face darkened and the powerful wizard hidden behind the grandfatherly exterior flared. "And you wonder why I kept information from you." 

Severus leant back in his chair, determined to win. "I'm merely warning you of what will happen unless I have something to give him. I can delay Potter's recovery. I can keep his memories locked tightly away. Or I can restore him, heal him, and hand him over to the Dark Lord to give myself enough time to complete the tasks. With Potter distracting the Dark Lord's attention, I could accomplish far more than if I remained here." 

His voice thick with disgust, Albus said, "How could you? How could you let them hurt him more? He's her son." 

Her face. His ruined face. Her eyes. His ruined eyes. Severus squeezed his eyes shut against the memories, digging his fingers into his temples. "I _know_. I want this finished." 

"Her only child. He's all that remains of her. When he's dead-" 

Ripped to pieces. Destroyed forever. Never to see her eyes again. Severus slammed his fists on the desk, making Albus's frame jump. "Stop it! I'm doing what needs to be done!" 

Albus pressed on. "He's not a bargaining chip, he's an injured boy. The son of a woman who died-" 

"ENOUGH!" Severus jumped to his feet, knocking the chair back against the carpet. He pressed his hands into the desk so hard his wrists hurt, and bent over Albus's portrait. "They wanted to put him in a cage smaller than my desk. The longer he remains here, the more they'll hurt him. You didn't see what they did. You don't know what they'll do to him." He had stood silently and watched as they'd done worse to others. 

His eyes full of pity, Albus said, "I know they do . . . monstrous things." 

Severus doubted Albus knew half of it, but the acknowledgement eased some of the pressure in his chest. In a steadier voice he said, "Potter can't stay here and survive. Not more than a week. I need to end this. If it means sacrificing him in the short term so the end will arrive sooner, I'm eager to make that sacrifice. I _need_ to make that sacrifice." 

"And I know him," Albus responded soothingly. "He needs you to remain with him. Please, Severus. Stay by his side and protect him. He needs you more than you can possibly imagine." 

Severus cocked an eyebrow as he straightened himself and crossed his arms over his chest. "And how do we plan on retrieving the Cup whilst I remain here? Kreacher? Granger and Weasley?" 

Ignoring Severus's sarcastic tone, Albus nodded. "Miss Granger and Mr Weasley have proven themselves fiercely loyal to Harry, and I have no doubt they will do their best to help him finish his work." 

Despite what all the Gryffindors believed, Severus harboured no desire to purposely hurt current or former students - even the ones who most deserved it. He might eagerly and willingly dispense a little corporal punishment, but he saw no reason why he should send children - even two of the most annoying Gryffindor children - to accomplish a task difficult even for fully grown and prepared adults. Sneering at Albus, he said, "And I'm regarded as the Dark one. Pray, what comes next? Shall we lead a rebellion of students and retake Hogwarts? An entire troop of first years _might_ be a decent challenge for a Death Eater. If nothing else, they should provide a momentary distraction." 

Rather than rise to the bait, Albus smiled a small, dangerous smile. "Have you so little faith in Hogwarts as a school?" 

"I have little faith in Gryffindors," Severus snapped. "Especially two young Gryffindors who are hunted more now than the previous week. They won't be safe." 

"You give them far too little credit," chided Albus. "They have proven themselves to be resourceful, especially if given helpful information. If my sources are correct, the Cup is in a vault at Gringotts." 

"Defences were most certainly improved since Quirrell's break-in." Severus righted his chair and sat back down. The Dark Lord most likely gifted the Cup to either Avery Senior or Bellatrix. Of those two, Bellatrix is more likely." 

"I agree. Does he trust her sanity enough?" 

"More than he should." Severus allowed a tiny smile. "I'm sure in his mind her level of devotion is perfectly sane. I'll need plans of Gringotts, as well as the exact location of the vault. How widely spread are the portraits?" 

"Not to the vaults unfortunately," said Albus shaking his head. "I've learned a random section of the vaults is rebuilt every decade, so it is unlikely full plans still exist, or that I will find an individual who can draw an accurate map for us." 

Severus tapped a finger on the chair's arm, his mind working through different scenarios. "We'll need her to lead us to it, unless the goblins aid us. I suppose that's also unlikely?" 

"We mustn't rely on it." Albus twiddled his thumbs together and Severus suspected he already had the beginning of a plan. 

"Spit it out, tell me whatever you're thinking." 

Albus stroked his beard absently as he spoke, "Kreacher can enter the Lestrange home as he is the Black house-elf and Bellatrix is still a Black despite her marriage." 

"Kreacher is no longer a Black house-elf, he belongs to Potter." 

Shaking his head, Albus corrected, "Should Harry die without leaving descendants, Kreacher would return to the Black household even if Harry was married, unless Harry had deliberately willed him to someone else. The laws of house-elf inheritance are very particular. Bellatrix cannot order Kreacher to her, but Harry could send him to her household, and the wards would never bar him as long as she resided there. If the key cannot be found or taken, her wand will grant us access." 

"I don't imagine Polyjuice would suffice to get us to the vault, even if we had a wand. Find out as much as you can about the defences." Perhaps they could find and interrogate a goblin. "Send a message to Granger and Weasley that the Cup is in Bellatrix's vault and they are to wait for a plan. Is it likely they will restrain themselves if they believe the messages come from Potter?" 

Albus nodded. "They are headstrong, but if Harry tells them to keep their heads down and that he's working on an idea, I doubt they will try to act first." Albus paused, then asked, "Kreacher was unable to sense your presence?" 

He reluctantly spoke one of his most detested phrases. "I don't know. House-elf magic is not something I've ever studied. I was remiss. The creature managed to stabilise Potter far more efficiently than we ever could." 

"Did I not tell you Harry was wise to keep him alive?" Albus gently boasted. 

Ever the realist, Severus retorted, "Killing him may still prove the better choice. Besides, you can't convince me the little prat spared the house-elf's life due to any master strategy. He did it because he lacked the stones to do otherwise." 

Softly, Albus said, "It often takes more strength to forgive and love than to take revenge. You of all people should know that." 

Potter had forgiven Kreacher far more easily than Severus could have ever forgiven Wormtail. Even now, he despised thinking back to those torturous months he was forced to endure the presence of that disgusting excuse of a wizard, and how he had never once allowed himself to take any of the even most well-hidden forms of revenge. If he had been given the kind of control over Wormtail that Potter had over Kreacher, Wormtail would have met a very cruel death after an excruciatingly long and painful period of torture. Reflecting on that time was more than he could handle right now, so to distract himself, he asked, "Have you any idea where the last Horcrux is?"

Albus mused, "If I had to guess, I would say Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem, since he used Slytherin's Locket and Hufflepuff's Cup. You know as well as I the Sorting Hat and the Sword of Gryffindor are free of any Dark Magic. As to where it might be . . ." Albus shook his head. "I've searched everywhere for it. Hypatia, the first Ravenclaw Headmistress, gave me many ideas, but none were fruitful." 

"He has most likely re-hidden them now that he knows others are searching for them."

"Perhaps." Albus's face displayed how little he thought that was true. "Tom has always been arrogant. How much do Miss Granger and Mr Weasley know?" 

"I didn't have time to determine that. If the Dark Lord doesn't remove those memories, I'll ask the boy when he wakes." 

" _I'll_ handle it," Albus insisted. "My brother can ask them the right questions." 

Amused at Albus's concern, Severus said, "I do have ways of questioning Potter without harming him." 

"You've never been completely rational around Harry."

"I've never tolerated fools." 

"Severus..." Albus looked so panic-stricken, Severus couldn't help but relent. 

"Very well, I promise I'll avoid harming him as much as possible. When he cries, he can rub his snotty face on his own sleeve, but I'll do my best to treat him with respect, even if he doesn't deserve it." 

"I suppose-" 

A sharp knock sounded at the door, and Severus quickly resized and hid Albus's portrait. He rose from his chair and strode to see what fool dared bother him so late at night. The head Healer stood in the hallway, fidgeting and avoiding Severus's eyes as much as possible. 

"Uh . . . the Dark Lord said you are to have the localised healing potions finished by tomorrow morning." 

Really? After everything he'd done? Potter couldn't heal fast enough.

 

_Please review!_


	5. Chapter 5

  
Author's notes: When Potter is captured by the Dark Lord, Severus must do his best to protect the boy, whilst remaining in the Dark Lord's favour.   


* * *

I'm in love with BBC's Sherlock Holmes. Their Sherlock reminds me of the Doctor and Severus rolled into one delicious package. Definitely check it out if you haven't already!

 

When Severus entered Potter's room with the requested potions for the head Healer, he found him and the other Healer dead. Hardly a surprise -- they knew too much --, but it had happened much sooner than he’d predicted. Potter could not possibly be healed. The boy lay naked and deathly still on the table; the only observable change from the previous day were the silver manacles encircling his wrists. 

"I've cut off his magic," said the Dark Lord, floating the dead Healers out the door like two grotesque puppets. "I've no reason to go into his mind without Legilimency-" 

_Rather, you want to keep him from yours._

"-and he doesn't need his magic. I've allowed a small connection to remain between us so I may sense his pain and know if he's harmed. From now on, you are to hurt him only in my presence, and you will minimise your use of magic around him." 

Severus didn't fully understand the bizarre request. The order concerning magic usage was nonsensical, for he knew of numerous ways to kill an individual without causing pain (the Killing Curse for one), and many forms of treatment required a period of pain as part of the healing process. What did the Dark Lord hope to gain if he remained connected to the boy's nervous system? Was it a way of monitoring the Horcrux? And how could a pair of manacles keep Potter from using his magic? Severus had never heard of such a thing. "Shall I pump him full of painkillers whilst I attempt to heal him entirely on my own?" 

"Yes," said the Dark Lord, missing the sarcasm entirely. "Ideally, keep him sedated until I arrive to examine his progress. There's no need for him to wake on his own." 

Unfortunately, as much as he wished to agree with the plan, it had one major flaw. "Keeping the boy constantly sedated will entail far more care than if he is allowed to wake and move. I'd have to feed him, bathe him, evacuate his bowels, rotate his body, and massage his limbs." When the Dark Lord looked as though none of that made the slightest impression on him, Severus quickly added, "It would require me to spend several hours each day caring for the boy rather than brewing. He can't harm himself when he's awake if we don't allow him access to anything dangerous, and we can't measure how well his body has healed unless he demonstrates fluidity of movement. I can feed him potions to increase the length of time he spends asleep, and I'll keep him compliant and quiet, but the less time I spend with Potter, the more time I'll have for my other duties." 

The Dark Lord glanced at Potter and asked, "Why is he covered in bruises?" 

What did that mean? Was his request granted or refused? _You fucking-_ "A side effect of the healing process we used on him, my Lord. His extreme injuries forced us to focus on stabilising his body and holding it in stasis rather than attempting to repair each small amount of damage. Dark Magic requires cleansing, or else no amount of healing spells will ever make a difference. We used a temporary skin to hold him together, but now the temporary skin is shedding, as skin naturally does when it's old, and injuries not yet healed are surfacing. Small wounds will reappear but are simple to fix. The difficulty is in stopping him from aggravating his injuries through movement during this phase, but I believe it's necessary to let him wake on his own and see how far he's progressed." 

Red eyes fixed on Severus. "You can't test while he's unconscious?" 

"No, my Lord, I cannot." It was difficult not to put emphasis on the 'I', but somehow he managed. 

"Very well," said the Dark Lord, letting his dissatisfaction show. "The cuffs will make him more manageable, and the rings on the cuffs and bedposts will help you confine him. I ordered the Healers to stock the bathroom cabinet with everything you need. Put him in his cell and watch him continuously, stopping by his cell periodically throughout the day to check on him. I'll return shortly to examine him myself, but in the meantime you will keep me updated on his progress." 

Still confused as to the purpose of the Dark Lord's newest commands, Severus said, "My Lord, unfortunately I own no owl and must remain here. How shall I communicate with you?" 

"I will send a trusted associate to your Potions Lab every few hours. You will send me updates and requests through them." 

_Wonderful. Just what I've always wanted._ This was getting worse by the second. 

"Yes, my Lord." Severus bowed and the Dark Lord left without a backward glance. 

Removing the viewing spell from the ceiling, Severus floated Potter down to the cellar. The second bedroom had been converted into a prison cell as he had ordered; however, to his dismay, the bathroom remained unconnected. Instead, a toilet and sink now occupied a corner of the room. _Idiots_. He'd have to drag the brat out for showers. Shoved into the other corner stood the bed, its four silver posts rising to the ceiling. Severus parted the cell bars and stepped through, placing Potter in the centre of the tousled, blood-red sheets. The crimson contrasted sharply with Potter's pale skin, making him seem all the more corpse-like. 

Bending over the boy, Severus lifted one limp arm to examine the cuffs which he suspected cut off Potter's magic. Although the Dark Lord was an extremely powerful, inventive wizard who knew rare magic, Severus could not recall anything or anyone ever stripping a wizard of his or her magical ability. It seemed impossible; after all, even unconscious patients still reacted magically. 

The snakes and dragons etched on the surface provided no clue how the manacles accomplished their task. No magical traces within the silver revealed themselves, and the runes spelled nonsense. After trying various techniques and finding nothing, Severus set up the viewing spell above the bed, and returned upstairs to fetch the examination table used while healing the boy, and two chairs. It would be easiest to feed Potter if he didn't interact with him much, so he spelled the table to accept food sent from the warming boxes upstairs. 

His stomach growled at the thought of food; he hadn't eaten anything all morning. Checking Potter one last time, he exited the cell and headed for the kitchen, where he found enough ingredients to prepare a basic meal consisting of beans on toast. He detested cooking and avoided it at all costs as he had more important things to do with his time. A return trip to the kitchen would be a waste of time, so he searched the room for some simple and convenient lunch items. 

Not much. Fresh vegetables and fruit filled the fridge crispers, but he didn't feel like putting effort into fixing a meal. 

Someone -- maybe one of the Healers? -- had left behind a carton of pumpkin juice. 

Hunting through the cupboards, he found a tin of spam as well as a few tins of chicken noodle soup. How did anyone expect Potter and him to survive on this? Tomorrow he'd send out a shopping list. 

Putting the spam on bread and soup in bowls, he heated them with a wave of his wand and placed them on the warmers. Lunch fixed, he left for the lab. 

A few hours later, he glanced in the mirror. Potter was no longer sleeping, but stood, staring at the sink. 

Excellent, the boy had woken. Time to dig through the memories. 

Casting a stasis spell over the fire, he tore off his brewing cloak and tossed it to the side as he marched back to the house. The Dark Lord had ordered an outdoor walkway to be built between the two buildings, and every time Severus opened the door, blasts of snowy air hit him, providing a welcome distraction. He marched through the house and down to the cellar, only to find Potter standing near the bars, yelling gibberish. 

_Wonderful_. "Calm down, Potter," he ordered. "You will only give yourself more injuries at this rate." 

"Snape!" Potter did an odd half-twist, his head jerking with far more movement than necessary. Severus wasn't sure if the clumsy movements were due to effects of various sedatives or the body rejecting itself. Severus expected extensive bruising on Potter's body as it healed, but he was not prepared for the visual shock of the vivid bruises. The size of bludgers in some spots, they covered Potter's body completely. The colours, from a deep red to a sea green, blended one into the other, making Potter look like a bizarre walking abstract tapestry. The large gash on his arm, previously covered with skin, now gaped open, splattering blood in every direction at Potter's erratic movements. The dried and fresh blood covering the skinny form obscured the newly emerging injuries, making it impossible for Severus to ascertain their severity. 

"You are a mess," said Severus. 

The statement ignited something in the boy's primitive brain. He glanced down at himself and let out a strange, choked howl, as if his damaged body alarmed him. Stumbling over his feet, he lurched to the bed and clumsily tore the sheet from the mattress, holding it up against his body. "Why am I naked, you pervert?!" 

_Childish idiot_. "I am not attracted to underdeveloped little boys. I made the mistake of assuming you were competent enough as a wizard to spell pockets into your clothing in order to hide artefacts. I destroyed the rags as a precaution. Now, you will come with me and take a bath. Scourgify can only clean so much, and I've no desire for you to smear blood and dirt about my rooms. Do not try to resist -- you are in no position to fight my magic as you are." 

He expected stubborn disobedience. After all, the smarmy little prick got off on finding ways to drive him mad. Instead, Potter clutched his sheet tighter around his body and complied with an obedience and servitude never shown in Potions class. Opening the bars for him to exit, Severus couldn't help but gape at how quietly and readily the boy obeyed. Whatever the Dark Lord had done to induce such compliance, he must learn it himself. 

Temporarily frozen with the shock caused by Potter's obedience, he recovered enough to say, "First door on your right." After casting a Scourgify at the blood on the floor of the cell, he followed Potter, half expecting the brat to turn and make a run for it, but Potter walked unsteadily into the bathroom and halted in the centre of the navy blue bathmat, staring at the tub. 

Closing the door behind them, Severus spelled the taps open. When Potter made no move, he snapped, "Stop gawking and get in." 

Without any modesty, Potter dropped the sheet and climbed into the tub, his legs and arms still jerking as if manipulated by an invisible puppeteer. Once he had settled himself without falling over, he asked with child-like sincerity, "Are you going to bathe, too?" 

Oh fuck. The boy was damaged. Was this evidence of serious long-term brain damage, or a temporary confusion brought on by heavy drugging? If it was serious, how could he fix what he knew so little about? "Of course not, I'm only here to make sure you don't kill yourself." 

Potter gazed up at Severus, eyes blinking slowly. "Why would I do that?" 

Perhaps it was only an effect of the potions. Perhaps the Dark Lord had tampered with him while searching through his memories? Perhaps parts were healing improperly? 

"Oh, d'you mean this?" Potter said, jabbing at the cut on his arm. "It doesn't hurt at all. _Nothing_ hurts." 

"I plied you with a very ample dose of painkillers. Quite frankly, I'm amazed you're walking and talking right now, but you've always been annoyingly stubborn and unable to know when you should just sit down and shut up." 

His expression as mulish as ever, Potter said, "I am sitting now." 

_I have to stay in this prison with_ that _?_ Silkily, Severus said, "Then perhaps you should work on the second part." 

His hand flailing, Potter made an attempt at scrubbing his chest with the flannel. "Snape, Snape, Snape," he said in a singsong voice. "I remember the name, but not much else..." 

Shit. He hadn't meant to cut that much, and he doubted the Dark Lord had either. Maybe skull shards remained in Potter's brain. Kneeling by the tub, he reached over and prodded Potter's head where the bone had been fractured. "Maybe you hit your head harder than we thought," he said. 

"Ow!" Potter frowned and jerked away. " _That_ hurt." 

Hurrying to the cabinet, Severus spelled it open. The Healers had stocked it with dozens of neatly labelled vials and jars. Lifting up the vial labelled as a memory-enhancing potion, he cast a revelation spell and sniffed. It was the memory-enhancing potion. Severus placed it on the edge of the tub, along with the Legilimency aid, a general healing potion, a healing potion designed for the brain, and two analgesics: one milder and the other mixed with a sedative. 

Potter reached for them and Severus batted his hand away, giving him the mild analgesic first. "Drink, and don't spill a drop." 

When Potter had downed it, Severus gave him the Legilimency aid. "Now drink this." 

Potter twisted his head away, avoiding the vial. _Stubborn boy_. Severus reached over and clamped Potter's nose shut, pouring the liquid down his throat. The boy was so witless, he didn't even try to close his mouth. When Severus finished pouring the liquid in, he pressed Potter's mouth closed until he was certain the boy had swallowed the entire potion. When he uncorked the memory-enhancing vial, Potter submissively brought it to his lips. 

Severus stood and stepped back from the tub. "Your memories should return shortly after you finish that potion. If you fail to remember who I am after that, I will assume the head injury is permanent."

"That's bad, right?" asked Potter between gulps. 

The stupid question didn't deserve the effort of an answer. Severus said nothing, merely watching Potter to see how the potions affected him. 

Potter set the vial down on the rim of the bathtub with far more grace than before. "I don't think it wo-" His hands flew to his head, a scream tearing from his throat as he curled in on himself. 

Instinctively, Severus flew to his side. _Shit._ " _Petrificus Totalus! Stupefy!_ " He stared at the rigid form. It was only a temporary fix, preventing any damage from spreading. Floating Potter carefully out of the room and back to the cell, Severus placed him on the bed, cut open his stomach, and poured a hypnotic sedative inside. Darting off to the lab, he set up a small cauldron as he waited for the Dark Lord to arrive. 

Chimaeridae livers should help increase the uptake of the healing potion in the brain. The memory-enhancing potion contained a base of Spirulina, a strong ingredient. Perhaps too strong. Was it the base or the chief ingredient? 

Grabbing his favourite book on Healing off the shelf, he flipped to the section on brain and memories. The injury probably lay in the hippocampus, an area that also controlled coordination. But would damage to the hippocampus cause retrograde as well as anterograde amnesia? The book was _useless_. He flung it aside and grabbed a Muggle health book, flipping to the section on cobalamin, which was probably what needed to be adjusted in the potion. 

_Cobalamin deficiency can cause Pernicious anaemia, which has been identified as a risk factor for osteoporosis-_

Of course! Potter's skull and a few of his bones needed to regrow so they'd given him high levels of cobalamin. Too much cobalamin in Potter’s system would cause the memory-enhancing potion to overreact. Doxy livers should provide a much safer alternative.

He slowly added the Quercus roots to the cauldron and stirred three times counter-clockwise. This new potion should sufficiently increase the absorption rate. The Dark Lord arrived as he set the potion to a slow boil. 

"My Lord." Wishing to escape the Cruciatus, Severus bent low to the floor in a display of extreme humbleness. "Please forgive me. I accidentally hurt the boy when I attempted to repair his memories. I'm building a painkiller better suited to the process." 

"You may rise," said the Dark Lord. "You can fix his memories?" 

Gratefully returning to an upright position, Severus answered, "Unless you wish me to stop, I believe I should try and retrieve the information contained within them. They may prove beneficial to your Lordship." 

For a moment the Dark Lord said nothing. Was the he thinking or had Severus crossed a boundary? Finally, the Dark Lord said, "Repair his mind as best you can. What went wrong with this recent attempt?" 

The Dark Lord hated feeling stupid. Although he was intelligent enough to learn Healing, he considered certain subjects beneath him and unworthy of his time. He was especially dismissive of Severus's personal blend of brewing which incorporated Muggle knowledge and medicine with wizarding magic and potions. Severus carefully dumbed down his language. Analgesics were painkillers. All types of hypnotics were sedatives. "I believe the potion I gave him to stimulate his memory recovery interacted poorly with a bone-building potion the Healers gave him." Actually, the true cause was more likely the memories Severus had hidden away trying to reconnect themselves. The memory-enhancing potion he'd fed Potter had been overly aggressive. "The potions he was given today will be out of his system in another three days and I will be able to control every single reaction he has. Until then, I will act with utmost caution and test Potter for certain compounds before I give him anything new." 

"See that you do," said the Dark Lord. "If this happens again, I will not be as forgiving." 

"I understand, my Lord." Severus bowed to the swirl of the Dark Lord's robes as he left. 

When the potion was finished, he returned to Potter, who was still frozen in place, curled in a ball on the bed. 

" _Finite Incantatem!_ " 

Potter uncurled, the wound above his stomach weeping blood. Severus poured in his new potion and then applied a healing salve. 

Potter's eyelashes fluttered and he gave a soft sigh. Severus sat down on the edge of the bed, turned towards the sink, and closed his eyes. Looking back at Potter, he gently placed a hand upon the warm chest and cast a monitoring spell. Capturing Potter's chin, he cast, " _Legilimens_ " and pressed inside the boy's cloudy eyes. 

He saw the Dark Lord's skilled work. A string of powerful memory spells trailed through Potter's mind like a well-built cobweb. However, Severus had studied enough of memory charms to know where to look. Rather than removing and replacing the spells, Severus examined the memories nearby: The Dark Lord. A vaguely familiar handsome young man stood in an underground chamber. The hallway in the Ministry of Magic. 

The Dark Lord had hidden memories of himself. Probably the ones Severus had seen earlier. Skilfully, Severus guided Potter with leading questions in search of the removed memories, but his search revealed no trace of the Dark Lord's earlier presence. Legilimency did not guarantee the revelation of all memories, but Potter had never learned the art of subterfuge, and Severus was quite adept at finding what he needed to know. Once he finished examining the memories the Dark Lord had removed, he went in search of the rest of the suppressed memories. 

The boy's mind was tangled, but it didn't take long to figure out why. Severus had somehow suppressed nearly every memory of himself. How was that possible? He'd merely attempted to remove Potter's memory of the torture and one previous interaction. He'd been careless. He didn't know as much about memories as he thought he did, and it showed. 

But should he give Potter back those memories? Without them he was remarkably well-behaved, and he'd no longer think of Severus as a man worthy of death, making him easier to control. 

His hands moving on instinct, Severus released Potter's chest and chin and fetched the revival potion. Better to start out slow. He shook a few drops onto Potter's lips and waited.

The vivid eyes stopped staring at some distant point and focused on Severus instead.   
"Where am I?" 

Potter was still under heavy sedation and an attempt to lift his hand resulted in an odd flopping of the limb. 

"You've been captured. Your friends escaped." He couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at Potter's eyes and not seen hate glaring back at him. He'd never once stared at Potter's eyes the way he wanted to, and now he feasted on them, admiring their shape and colour. The tiny bit of gold intruded on the green, true, but they were still gorgeous, the gold barely visible in the low lights of the cell. Severus would find a way to make the lights brighter. After he'd fixed the eyes, he'd want to stare at them for hours. It was all that he had left of her.

"Escaped?" Potter's brow furrowed and both arms briefly flailed with an aborted attempt at movement. Severus couldn't resist smoothing them down. There was a delightfully forbidden feel to it. He was seeing something he shouldn't see, viewing and touching Potter in all his defenceless nakedness, knowing how _furious_ Potter would be if he were himself. "You were hurt. You don't remember me, do you?" 

For the first time in his life, it was amusing rather than aggravating to see Potter struggle for an answer. Potter stared blankly for a moment, then answered, "You're . . . my . . . " 

_Professor_ , planted Severus. 

"...teacher?" 

Close enough. "You were captured by the Dark Lord." 

"Voldemort!" Potter's eyes grew nearly impossibly wide and, in a surprising display of coordination and athleticism, he shot up in the bed and attempted to climb off the side. Catching him, Severus ignored the struggling limbs and carefully pushed him back down. "You need to rest." 

Potter shook his head, his hands flailing as he tried to push Severus away. "I have to fight." 

Gryffindors were well-trained. Severus was tempted to leave Potter in his state of ignorance, but what if he'd accidentally suppressed other memories? Besides, Severus needed the hate. It didn't feel right without it. 

He removed the hypnotic sedative from his robes and placed a drop on Potter's lips. The boy stilled, his eyes growing glassy. One more drop would put him to sleep, but Severus needed him awake for this. He dove back in and, carefully this time, returned and clipped away certain memories. Potter didn't need to know Kreacher, or the earlier memory, or even this memory, but he needed to remember Severus Snape. An hour's worth of work returned Potter to a relative state of normalcy, and with the memory of the most recent intrusion removed, Severus turned away from Potter and closed his eyes again. When he opened them, he reached into his robes and pulled out a handful of shrunken potions. He kept his potions in differently sized and shaped bottles to make it easier to identify them, but he thumbed through them now, pretending to examine and debate over each one before finally selecting a healing potion with a hypnotic agent mixed in. 

After a space of time appropriate to explain any movements Potter had made since the last time Severus closed his eyes, he turned back to Potter and entered his mind. Pretending to examine the memories, he sifted through the boy's mind, searching for any clues to Potter's memory loss. Once he'd been in Potter's mind for a sufficient amount of time to avoid the Dark Lord's suspicions, he fed Potter a few drops of the potion and floated him back to the bathroom, placing him on the bathmat. 

He'd blame the head injury for the missing memories. The less Potter suspected Severus had mucked about in his head, the less belligerent he would be. 

After a bit, Potter stirred, blinking as he sat up. 

Severus grabbed the stronger analgesic off the edge of the tub and moved to hand it to Potter. "I trust your memories have returned." 

Potter's hand flew out with surprising quickness and smacked the vial out of Severus's hand, shattering it against the tub. "I'm not taking anything you give me, you bastard!" He was on his feet, clumsily flying at Severus. 

Severus braced himself and caught the struggling form. He held Potter at arm's length as the boy raged and screamed, "YOU KILLED DUMBLEDORE!" 

Ignoring the childish tantrum for the moment, Severus sent a monitoring spell into the writhing body. 

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" 

Yes, the returned memories improved him, although his kicks flew wildly and his other body movements remained jerky. Perhaps a full recovery was not possible. But if he figured out what was causing the shakiness.... 

"DUMBLEDORE TRUSTED YOU! HE'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! SIRIUS IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! IT'S ALL YOUR-" 

_Enough._ " _Silencio!_ " Ungrateful little prick... He couldn't remain in this prison with the brat; he already wanted to wring his neck. Silent hate continued to spill from Potter's lips and Severus cast, " _Petrificus Totalus!_ ," closing his hand around the skinny neck. He squeezed just enough to hurt a little and cause fear. At Hogwarts he’d had to follow Albus's rules, but here, punishment came swift and decisive. Potter would learn his place and the consequences of stepping out of line. 

Openly displaying his hatred, Severus hissed, "You are very lucky that the Dark Lord has forbidden you from being harmed without his express permission. If I were allowed right now, I would teach you a lesson in pain you would never forget. You would do well to remember that I have a very good memory, and it is highly likely that he will want you tortured for information soon." There was no need to torture him for information, they'd already taken what they wanted, but Potter didn't need to know that. "If you wish a repeat of last time and to be beaten so badly that you won't wake for three days, I can grant you that wish. I trust you have enough brains in that empty head of yours to remember and understand that I do not make idle threats. _Mobilicorpus_." He released Potter's neck and floated him back to his cage, placing him facedown so that he could apply some healing salve to the cuts on his back. The analgesics were enough that Potter shouldn't feel any pain, but movement would only aggravate the injuries. 

Touching Potter as little as possible, Severus applied the healing salve, summoned food, and left. He had more important things to do than babysit Potter. While he worked he'd keep track of the boy with the viewing spell. Besides, with the hypnotic, the high level of sedatives coursing through his veins, and his body still needing recovery, the boy would fall asleep within an hour. 

Severus arrived at his potions lab and opened the door. Taking one step in, he came to an abrupt halt, for waiting in the centre of the room stood Narcissa Malfoy. 

 

_Please review!_


	6. Chapter 6

  
Author's notes: verus's POV of the epic Nights of Gethsemane. When the Dark Lord captures Potter, Severus is forced to do his best to protect Potter whilst remaining in the Dark Lord's favour.  


* * *

I hope you all had a wonderful time over the holidays.

 

For a moment, Severus could only blink stupidly in surprise. How on earth had Narcissa talked her way into the Potions Lab? She’d never taken the Dark Mark and, despite her marriage to Lucius, her rank was nowhere near the top echelons of those who supported the Dark Lord. 

Recovering himself, he stepped onto the floor of the lab and crossed the room to her. "Narcissa, this is a pleasant surprise." He clasped her small, dainty hand in his and smiled. 

"Severus." She smiled back, tilting her head to the side, the candlelight reflecting off the small gems decorating her upswept hair. "I hope I'm not intruding. Mr Mulciber led me here. I've been asked by the Dark Lord to deliver your weekly essentials. As I wasn't certain what you preferred, I brought what I consider to be necessary to run a small household." Reaching into the silken handbag hanging off her arm, she removed a small drawstring pouch that fit neatly in her palm. "Your food." She handed it to Severus and fetched another, slightly smaller, pouch. "Your toiletries." Her smile twitched. "I know, of course, that you will be requesting such items for yourself, and may have already done so, but you must be incredibly busy." 

Impressive. She had probably gone to the Dark Lord and planted the idea in his mind -- she was that type of witch. What did she want? Too Slytherin to volunteer for such a generous assignment out of the goodness of her heart, she had to harbour some ulterior motive. 

Tucking the items away, he said, "Thank you. You are quite right in that my brewing doesn't leave me much time to properly manage household duties." 

"Has Harry woken?" 

Was that genuine concern on her face? She was always so difficult to read... "He's woken. He's healing well. He ate lunch on his own." 

"That's a relief." She gave a slight sigh. "I feared he might never wake." 

It was a strange thing for a loyal supporter of the Dark Lord to say to another of his followers, unless she had somehow heard or guessed the Dark Lord's plans for Potter. She didn't give him any time to reflect or think on the matter, but continued on, "I suppose that you are entirely responsible for healing him now that the two of you are alone. Have you need of any medical books?" 

What was she after? This was odd. The only other time she'd approached him in private was when she came to his home to plead for help with Draco. He hadn't slept in thirty-two hours and his mind lacked its normal edge, not to mention he had to get back to brewing. Time to cut the visit short and get to the heart of the matter. "They would indeed be very helpful. What can I do for you?" 

Her smile widened. Of course she had been waiting for that moment. "You're too considerate, Severus. I can see you are swamped with the Dark Lord's work and have no time at all for insignificant personal matters." 

She wanted the potions that he usually brewed for her family: the sleep aid, the moisturising cream, and the stimulant. That she was here, and not her husband, suggested Lucius had further severed their friendship, but he couldn't be certain. Lucius could've sent his wife to patch up the matter or to ask favours so he wouldn't have to humble himself. No matter the reason, Narcissa's involvement boded ill for Severus's relationship with Lucius. Still, if Narcissa could be sent to a location that few Death Eaters had access to, she would be a powerful ally. If he could just convince her that the Dark Lord could still harm her son... 

"Much less time than before, to be sure, although that should improve considerably now that I can focus more on my work." He gave a nod to her in recognition. "Please, let me repay your efforts." 

"Oh, you mustn't trouble yourself," she said with perfect outward sincerity. 

"I insist." Sweeping over to the other side of the lab, he fetched a bottle of his own personal sleep aid, which was a bit stronger than the one he normally gave her husband. It would have to do, as he had no time to prepare a new brew. Multiple bottles of the stimulant resided in the stores (it was a popular gift), but he hadn't made the moisturiser. Grabbing a vial of the stimulant, he returned to her. "It is a rather difficult time and with all the added work it can be hard to clear one's mind in order to sleep. This-" He placed the sleep aid in her hand. "-should help. Take a capful half an hour before you wish to fall asleep. It will last for eight hours and any dreams had will be pleasant. Should you need to wake up, take a capful of this." She eagerly held out her other hand for the stimulant and he placed it on her palm. "The effects will last ten hours, but a few drops at about four hours in will extend the life to fourteen hours. Never take it more often than twice a week." He took it nearly every day himself, but it would be foolish to give possible enemies the same advantages as himself. 

"Thank you so much, Severus." She tucked away the potions and glanced around his lab as if seeing it for the first time. "I've taken up too much of your time. I hope to see you again soon." 

"I look forward to any visit," he said honestly, watching as she gracefully climbed the stairs, then Apparated away. 

The request for extra potions reminded him of all that he still needed to brew for Potter. How to keep the boy under his control? He could always take away memories when needed, but the more he cut away, the more unstable Potter’s mind would become. Potions were the answer, but they would be difficult to administer to an unwilling patient. He could no longer cut open Potter's stomach to feed him potions that way, and it was difficult to compel an unconscious individual to properly swallow fluids without using magic, which he was supposed to limit around the boy. He refused to consider suppositories. No, he would dose Potter's food. 

After checking on all his cauldrons, he headed over to the stores to examine what he already had. What would he need to keep the boy under his thumb? Calming Draughts. Dreamless Sleep. No, Potter would suspect that. Severus couldn't just let him dream on his own, either. Nightmares might cause Potter to jerk about and potentially damage himself. Severus needed something to guide the dreams, to make them harmless, but it would be harder than calming Narcissa's dreams. Perhaps a Calming Draught that could work throughout sleep? A valerian base would allow a stronger dosage before bed without much interference with the regular dosages of hypnotic sedatives. 

A yawn escaped him despite himself and he paused for a moment to rub his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he’d had more than three hours of sleep in a row. He needed to rest.

After preparing the potions which required long periods of constant temperature, he retired to his new accommodations, casting wards and privacy spells on the snow-brushed walkway. Inside, he re-warded all the doors that led outside to ensure that he could not be surprised by anyone. Although the Healers had said that the cellar door that led outside was entirely sealed off, he reinforced the wards. If Potter were to escape now, he would be entirely at fault. 

Finally, after he'd set all the wards, after he’d unpacked all the food and toiletries, after he’d written out a new list of what he still needed, after he’d checked on Potter one last time, he retired to his bedroom. 

He couldn't remember the last time he'd bathed, and cleaning spells just weren't enough, so he stripped off his clothing in the locked and warded bathroom, and stepped into the icy cold water of the shower. Had they forgotten to turn on the water heater? Too tired to bother tracking it down, he ignored the goose pimples all over his flesh, and scrubbed himself down with the soap Narcissa had thoughtfully provided. The water gradually warmed, at a slow rate which suggested that the property was high in the mountains. Could altitude be calculated based on the air oxygen level? He'd already rigged a needle compass to determine north, but that didn't tell him much. The food Narcissa had given him had been standard British fare, probably brought from London. Strix flew in and out of the property in every direction and couldn't be used to determine which way was what, much less the general location of the house. Maybe writing to different associates would be the best way to figure out the prison's location?

One thing at a time. He hadn't fully explored the house. If, as he suspected, the house was built as a Death Eater safe house, then hidden compartments would have been incorporated. Of course, the Dark Lord had presumably searched it from top to bottom, but something could have been missed. 

Clean at last, he squeezed the water out of his hair before exiting the shower. He'd brought in his nightshirt and an extra pair of pants, and he put them on, tucking Albus's wand into a hidden compartment on his nightshirt. It was rather handy having two fully functional wands and, for the first time in Merlin knew how many years, he set his wand fully down on the sink to take his nightly potions and brush his teeth. 

He emptied his pockets, transferring the contents to a fresh set of robes which he draped over his desk chair. He wore the same style of outfit over and over again to avoid misplacing any potion. A second's hesitation over which pocket contained the healing potion could mean the difference between life and death. Thinking of potions reminded him of the ones planted throughout his body, and he made a mental note to replace both poison capsules, as it had been a while since he'd put them in. 

Finally, everything set away and prepared, he propped the mirror on the chair facing the desk, and enlarged Albus's portrait. 

"Good evening, Severus," said Albus brightly. "Miss Granger and Mr Weasley are currently safe and that is all I shall tell you for now." 

It was all he needed to know. "They have the mirror shard?" 

"Yes. I'm afraid Dobby passed away. Harry will be terribly upset, so it's probably best if you don't mention it." 

Like he would ever say such a thing. "I shall refrain from speaking on the subject." He was tired and not in the mood for conversation, so he said, "I'd like you to watch Potter whilst I sleep. I'll need at least three hours-" 

"Take eight," insisted Albus. "More if you need." 

Eight did sound good, but he wasn't sure if he could spare the time. "Seven," he relented. Too much and he might grow soft. "You can keep an eye on Potter for seven hours?" 

Albus smiled. "I have all the time in the world now." 

"Very well." Severus propped up Albus's portrait so that he could watch Potter in the mirror, and retired to bed, placing his wand under his pillow. 

Although he hated using sleeping potions, lying in bed was the moment when the ghosts of the past crowded around him, filling his head and chasing away rest. It was hard not to think of her, to remember her, and remember every single little mistake he'd ever made. After so many large ones, the smaller ones ought not to bother him, but they did. 

_"It's stupid," he said._

_"It isn't," she insisted, her face darkened with a scowl. She always looked cute, even when she scowled. "What's wrong with it?"_

_"It has no point," he pointed out, noting which freckles vanished when she wrinkled her face. "What is the point of reading stories of people who never existed, doing things that we can't ever do? Wizards don't need stories, we make them."_

_Her scowl deepened. "Wizards don't write fiction?"_

_Mother hadn’t had any fiction books, but that didn't mean anything. He gave a shrug and answered, "I don't see why they would bother with it. What does fiction_ do _?"_

_"It makes you think," she said as she swept her hair back. It always amazed him. One moment sheets of red gold framed her face, the next she pinned them up in a pony tail or a bun that was always neat and, if messy, it was perfect in its messiness. The strands that fell out of her ponytail and framed her face always added to her beauty. He sometimes tied back his hair and it never looked right, no matter how many times he tried it. Pulling back his hair only reminded him that he had the ugliest nose in the world, while she looked more beautiful when her hair was swept up. He was studying how the light coming through her bedroom window illuminated the flush in her cheeks and almost didn’t hear her say, "It makes you feel and consider things that you might not have considered before."_

_"I'd rather learn new spells."_

_She tucked a stray strand behind her ear and looked at him critically, "You've hated every single summer reading book?"_

_"I've never had to do summer reading," he answered, quite glad for once that he didn't attend her school._

_She threw him that hated look of pity and said, "I don't think you will enjoy any of my summer reading books straight away, but I'll give you a book you might like. If you like it, I'll share my other books with you. I'm really curious to know what you'd think of some of them."_

_His stomach seemed to inflate like a balloon at the news that his opinion was important to her, but he pretended to not be interested. Instead of expressing the delight bubbling through him, he suspiciously asked, "Is there homework involved?" He loved helping her with her homework. It was generally far more fascinating than his own._

_She laughed, showing a line of adorably imperfect teeth. "I won't ask for help with my homework. Promise."_

_"Give me the book," he said. "I want to read a good one before I read the bad ones and I suppose I ought to help you with your Muggle homework anyway. If you have to spend time on your homework, we'll never be prepared for Hogwarts." The more time they had together, the happier he would be._

_She asked, "Will we have summer homework at Hogwarts?" as she stood and walked to the bookshelf, the sunlight catching on the tiny blonde hairs that covered her legs._

_"Loads," he said with false authority. "But we can study together since we'll most likely be taking the same classes."_

_She glanced over at him from where she knelt down in front of her bookcase. "I won't be really behind, will I? I mean, you're loads ahead of me when it comes to magic."_

_"No," he assured her, although it was his own greatest worry. How could he compete against classmates that had been taught magic when they discovered how to walk? "Hogwarts teaches everyone in the UK, so there will be plenty of Muggleborns. Most Muggleborns probably have no idea they're wizards until they get the Hogwarts letter, so you'll probably be a step ahead of most of them."_

_"Oh," she said with relief as she turned back towards her bookshelf. "What sort of classes will we take?"_

_He thought back to the books under mother's bed. "Transfiguration. Magical theory. Potions. Runes. Herbology . . . You know, general stuff."_

_She pulled a thick, heavy book off the lower shelf and returned to him, hugging it in her arms._

_She'd never given him a gift before - even a temporary one - and the room seemed to grow hotter by the second and he tugged lightly on his frock to try to cool himself. She sat down before him, her beetle-green eyes examining him._

_"Your father won't destroy it, will he?"_

_He shook his head savagely, his eyes fixed on a strand of hair that brushed against her right cheek. He’d never been able to look at her eyes while she looked back for long without feeling an ugly blush spread over his body. "I won't let him near it," he swore, and he hadn't. Tobias never even saw it._

_She handed it over and he took it greedily, realising that for the first time in his life, he actually_ wanted _this gift. Heavy as mother's spell books, Lily's book wasn't nearly as old. Across the front cover, in large, shiny letters, it read, '_ World Mythologies. _'_

_"Be careful with it," she said, her teeth worrying her lip and an expression almost akin to regret dancing across her face._

_He clung to it tightly, lest she change her mind. "I won't disappoint you."_

And he didn't. Not then.

 

 

_Please review~_


	7. Chapter 7

_Sorry about the delay on this. My laptop was stolen and I can't work on stories like these on my work computer._

 

The wards shivered and a burst of light and sound accompanied the Portkey arrival of Avery Senior along with two young Death Eaters Severus didn't recognise. They landed in the middle of the kitchen, the youngsters craning their necks to take in the room as if the Dark Lord were daft enough to keep Potter in the kitchen.

"Have you time to discuss the library?" asked Avery Senior, getting straight to the point. Although he'd never expressed dislike of Severus, he'd never shown any sort of emotion towards his son's friend other than apathy and occasional scorn. A short man, he was as sensitive of his height as he was to criticism of his son. The thick, heavy boots he wore gave him a more menacing step, but he'd gained his status by dedicated work and sacrificing his two eldest sons to the Dark Lord, rather than by any accomplishment of merit. 

"I can make time," Severus answered. He'd been half-heartedly thumbing through his growing collection of cookbooks, waiting for his order to be filled. Closing the book in front of him, he stood and strode ahead of the others to the bedroom he wanted remodelled. He had no intention of sharing the house and, as he’d suspected, a library was too practical a request to be denied by the Dark Lord. 

In the future library, Severus unfurled a copy of the blueprint he'd drawn up three days earlier and left on one of the dressers. Avery Senior stepped to his side, the two youngsters hesitantly following. Although he'd given Avery Senior a copy with the last work order, he wanted everything in the room to be exact, as it would likely be his primary living space outside of the lab. 

"I want it precise," he informed them, giving the youngsters a critical look. "The fireplace must remain intact, and if you connect it to the Floo network, the Dark Lord will have your heads."

Unfazed, Avery Senior showed no reaction, but the two young Death Eaters shot each other nervous glances. 

Severus wanted to get Avery Senior away from the others, and glean what little information the other would be willing to part with, but neither of them could leave the workmen alone, and the Dark Lord hadn't given permission for Avery to be in the same room as Potter. After they finished reviewing the plans, he asked, "Have you need of anything else?" 

When a curt 'no' came as the reply, he headed for Potter's cell. He needed to apply more healing salve anyway. Casting wards to bar anyone else from entry, Severus stepped through the door, closing it firmly behind him. The boy slept in his cage. Due to the potions and his injuries, Potter spent most of his time sleeping, only waking on occasion to eat. Waving his wand, Severus parted the bars with a wordless spell and stepped into the now brightly lit cell to examine his patient.

Potter was sprawled facedown on the sheets, his arms and legs spread so wide, it was as if he were clinging to the bed for dear life. Severus flicked him in the ear, but he didn't respond, the potions included in his last meal still in effect. No need to have the prat wake up and call him a pervert again. Casting Bewitched Sleep, he yanked off the rumpled bed sheet draped haphazardly over Potter's hips. When the boy didn't rouse, Severus levitated him, and stripped him of the clothing that he'd given him earlier. He'd found the articles in the wardrobe in his room. Originally garishly bright, he'd dyed them black. Once Potter was naked, he set the boy on the table and placed his hands flat on Potter's warm back, closing his eyes as he examined the body beneath him with magic. 

Good. Potter had healed considerably since his last examination two days before. Severus could no longer detect any damage below the surface of Potter's skin. All the foreign bodies had been removed, and all the tears and fractures within muscle and bone had completely healed as far as he could tell.

Opening his eyes, he examined Potter's skin. The once ever-present bruises had faded until only a few marred Potter's back and hips. He prodded the biggest and darkest one, just above Potter's left buttock. Most of the others had already turned a nearly-healed yellow, but this one still held a purple tint. The bone beneath it had been shattered and the muscles riddled with the shards. The Healers and he had cleaned everything out and regrown the bone, but the damage had been extensive. A little more time and it would be healed; the colour was about what he expected, and the bruise seemed to respond well to touch. 

He shook his head. It wasn't as if he had lots of experience with bruises; he tended to ignore his own. With his limited training, he couldn't be certain as to how healed Potter was in any category. Even if he'd had more training, he'd been busy brewing and, while he'd noticed through the viewing mirror a bit of shakiness remaining in Potter's movements, he hadn't had the time to try to determine what caused it. Once the superficial injuries healed, the boy should be fine. In theory, anyway. If only the Dark Lord hadn't been such an _idiot_ and gotten rid of both Healers! How the hell was Severus supposed to know if the skinny form before him was as it was supposed to be by nature or not?

One thing at a time. Severus examined the shoulder, running his fingers around the area where the arm met the torso, examining the tissue with magic. Perhaps the shakiness he'd seen was due to the flesh not being reattached quite right? Everything seemed fine... The spell they'd used to switch the limbs hadn't been Dark, so he couldn't imagine why the sinews wouldn't set right. Maybe Potter's unsteadiness resulted from the large amounts of potions in his body? If that were the case, they would have to be cut back. 

Severus sighed. He did not look forward to spending more of his time watching over a boy who seemed determined to kill himself. Gathering up the clothes, he dressed Potter once more. It was disturbingly like dressing Lily's dolls, although with limbs far more floppy. He put the shirt on first, and then pulled the bottoms up Potter's hairy legs and over his small, flaccid penis. It was childish and stupid, but a small measure of pride flowed through him at the proof that he was more of a man than Potter.

Releasing the Bewitched Sleep as he left the cage, he marched over to the bathroom and checked the Potions cabinet. Sorting through the vials, he made a mental list. He needed more healing potions, a few calming draughts, and perhaps some nerve tonics. Shutting it tight with warding spells, he then headed to the linen cupboard, only to remember that it had been turned into a small holding cell, a fact that he had only discovered on his tour of the home two days before. Summoning the dirty towels and flannels from the bathroom to float behind him, he unlocked and entered the laundry room. Crammed with jumbled cardboard boxes of odd knickknacks belonging to the family that had once called the building home, the narrow room held no fixtures other than the washing machine, dryer, and a light bulb on a long string. The concrete floor and wooden walls left the room draughty. The cellar doors had been sealed shut with wards and presumably bricks or concrete beyond the wood he could see. Later, after he'd gained more of the Dark Lord's confidence, he'd see just how secure those doors were and what lay on the other side. 

He floated two of the boxes to rest against the floor near the cellar door, clearing room for him to work near the washing machine and dryer. He doubted the family would ever return to the home, but it didn't feel right to destroy their belongings. It wasn't the destruction of someone else's property that bothered him, but the idea that he'd be removing them because they got in the way of his items and his space. Although he was not so impractical to deny comforts to himself while he was forced to live in the prison, he figured the less like his home he made it, the more obvious it would be that he didn't intend to stay. He certainly refused to die there. 

That line of thinking only angered him, which didn't help because he knew, logically, it was silly to be upset over how the Dark Lord didn't trust him when he was exactly the sort of man the Dark Lord ought not to trust. If their positions were reversed, he knew he'd never allow someone who knew such a dangerous secret to leave the prison alive. Even without the matter of the Horcrux hanging over their heads, Severus had never embraced the superiority of the Pureblood mentality, and it was foolish of him to assume that the Dark Lord had never guessed at least some of his reasons for joining, if not all of them.

Did the Dark Lord see him the way he himself saw Lucius? A man driven by ambitions that could be shifted to the highest bidder? It was entirely correct from one point of view, but it still frustrated him because he'd worked _so damn hard_ to demonstrate his loyalty; to give the Dark Lord gifts which no one else had ever been able to give, and after all this time, after all his work, he was still a liability, something kept around while useful, but always on a leash, to be discarded as soon as it was safe to do so. Dumbledore had done the same, to some extent, but at least he had acknowledged Severus's talents and abilities, even if in horror of them. 

What more could he do to prove his worth, if not his loyalty? 

He dumped the crimson sheets in with the blue towels, and poured in a capful of detergent. He'd left kitchen towels in the dryer the day before, and he took them out now to sort and fold on a table he conjured for the task.

Mother hadn't had a dryer, but it was an extremely simple device to operate, and much simpler than hanging up clothes on a line. He'd never learnt the household spells that most wizards and witches used, simply because what he knew served him well enough, and household chores were so tediously boring, he ignored all but the essentials. 

_"There must be loads of cleaning spells," she said, flipping through her Standard Book of Spells, Grade One._

_"You're such a girl," sniggered Potter from two tables over._

_Heat searing through him, Severus sent Potter a dark glare and snapped, "Shut it."_

_Sighing, she jumped to her feet and tugged on his sleeve. "Come on. Let's go study somewhere else."_

_"Bye, Snivellus!" Black yelled after him, his friends laughing. Potter gave Severus a nasty grin._

_Once he got the chance, he would punch that prat._

He shut his eyes. _Stop it. Nothing can be gained from re-living the past._

A loud thump sounded. Throwing the towel down on the table, Severus quickly left the room, shutting the door behind him as he strode over to check on Potter. The boy was still sleeping, laid out in exactly the same position he'd been in when Severus had left. Storming into his new library, Severus hissed, "Be _quiet_."

"Uh, we're finished, sir," said one of the youngsters. Severus shot the youths a scowl. They'd cut away the dividing wall between the spare bedroom and the hallway, leaving a wide, open, carpeted area with softly tanned walls that were far more cosy than Potter's stark cage. The stone fireplace remained, now gracing the wall opposite Potter's room, and deep book shelves covered nearly every inch of free space along the walls, the dark wood contrasting nicely with the tan paint. 

"Leave," he ordered and Avery Senior, with an arch of his eyebrow, led the way. Once Severus was certain they were off the property, he examined the room. He hadn't asked for furniture, and they'd brought none, but a trip upstairs and a few spells had the room decorated perfectly. The lighting was poor, although candlelight and lamps could improve that. He liked the dim light though -- it reminded him of the dungeons. He positioned the plump sofa in front of the fireplace with a small table on each end. He never worked on sofas - they didn't provide proper back support - but he might need to sleep in the room next to Potter if the boy became severely injured again, and the sofa was large enough to comfortably transfigure into a bed. 

Fortunately for the young Death Eaters, they'd remembered his orders not to connect the fireplace to the Floo network. But Severus still set up wards around it, just in case some imbecile might try to later on. Once he'd determined that the bookshelves were sturdy and the light fixtures safe, he fetched the boxes full of books from his room. Earlier, he'd begrudgingly requested everything from his rooms at Hogwarts, even though the thought of others pawing through his things sent bile to his throat. It was necessary, however. He hadn't left anything of true value, personal or otherwise, at Hogwarts, and with the Dark Lord eager to purchase him anything that could solve the Horcrux problem, it wouldn't be difficult to replace the books that had been damaged by incompetent handling. 

Levitating the boxes over to the shelves, Severus set about organising them into categories. He found something calming about sorting books and, even though they'd been sorted at Hogwarts and packed together in their orderly rows, he reorganised them slightly. He placed the most important and most dangerous ones in one section near the fireplace and charmed them to appear boring and conventional, while the books of less magical importance were stored around the room at a height out of Potter's reach. For now, he couldn't see any possible reason Potter would have to visit the library, but who knew what sort of idiotic plans the dunderheads constantly surrounding him would put in place. He grouped the Muggle ones together next to the trite romance novels he'd found in his bedroom. Although he loved books, he wasn't the sort of literature snob that viewed each publication to be worthy of existance, and he would've destroyed the silly feminine nonsense at any other time. Now, he thought that he needed a moment or two of entertainment. Picking up one titled ' _Love on the High Seas_ ' Severus gave an amused snort at the cover image. It featured a busty blonde woman falling out of her dress while being embraced by a well-muscled pirate. Lily would have loved to have snickered at it with him. He slipped it into a spare pocket in his robes and, after he'd properly organised everything, he returned to the kitchen. 

In the past, his 'cooking' had mostly consisted of warming the contents of tins; however, now time in the kitchen, where few had the Dark Lord's permission to go, was all too precious time alone. He had to arrive in the lab at set times in the morning and the evening if he wanted to place orders and receive packages and not be dependent on the incompetent waste of feathers that was Strix, but whenever he could, he’d been spending most of his ‘free time’ in the kitchen, learning how to cook. 

Cooking was nothing like Potion brewing. He supposed that if he were a professional cook it might be different, but as it was, it required no thought at all. He looked up recipes that had nice pictures or sounded tasty, and he followed the instructions exactly, pausing between dishes to read the tips in the front sections of his growing cookbook collection. Provided he had all the ingredients and knew where everything was in the kitchen, he could make an entire dish entirely by magic. However, he preferred to do everything by hand. There was something profoundly relaxing about chopping up a bunch of carrots by hand and not caring if each slice had the exact same thickness as the one before. 

His hands worked methodically at cutting up the vegetables, leaving his mind free to wander, hopefully towards answers to pressing questions such as, "How can I get the Dark Lord to kill Potter knowing he'll bring himself closer to death if he does so?" So far, he'd only come up with three answers: Convince the Dark Lord the Horcrux has left Potter. Convince the Dark Lord the Horcrux threatens him. Convince the Dark Lord the loss of the Horcrux in Potter is necessary, or at least, won't cause him any harm. 

The first solution was the easiest in principal, the hardest in practicability. The Dark Lord was not a fool, and a lie would have to be absolutely convincing. 

What if he could actually succeed? It was a thought he tried to ignore, but when his mind was free, it kept returning there. What if he could take the Horcrux out of Potter? The boy wouldn't need to be sacrificed. The Horcrux could be destroyed and the Dark Lord thereafter. It was an outcome so perfect, he knew it was impossible simply because nothing in his life had ever gone perfectly, and certainly something as important as this would not. Still, if there was a chance he could get that Horcrux out of Potter...

He set out the dishes. Two sets for himself, two sets for Potter. But how to isolate it? How could he even figure out where in Potter the Horcrux resided and how deeply intertwined it was with Potter? The Horcrux did have its benefits. It could make the boy speak Parseltongue. It gave him a way to see inside the Dark Lord's head without his knowledge. Souls were a tricky business and, although Severus had ordered every single book he could find that dealt with the subject, the literature didn't even fill a shelf. 

Pouring juice for Potter and tea for himself, Severus proportioned their food on their plates. Reaching into his robes, he withdrew a vial of healing and a vial of calming potion, but not sleeping potions, not for now, and added them to Potter's pumpkin juice. The sweetness would mask the taste. Sticking Potter's lunch in one of the warmers to be sent to the table below, he placed their dinners in the other warmer and returned to the table to eat lunch, setting the mirror on a conjured stand. His fingers itched to pull out the Marauder's Map and examine Hogwarts to keep watch on the students and staff, but he couldn't cut his lunch out of the day in case the Dark Lord examined his memories, and he certainly couldn't show him the Map. 

The Map had been created for trivial foolishness, but it was an impressive magical invention, and as much as Severus hated to admit it, he was jealous that the Elder Potter and his insufferable friends had helped each other create a wondrous magical device beyond their years. Part of the reason he'd never gone for the Pureblood supremacy nonsense was that most Purebloods were uninventive when it came to magic. The Dark Lord was one of the few exceptions, and Severus had sneaking suspicions about that, of which he didn't even let himself think. 

No, while Gryffindors tended to be stupid, they could be quite creative -- precious few of them, but there they were. It was odd that there weren’t more Ravenclaws who developed spells and potions, but one did have to be willing to take risks, unless magical theory was properly understood and practised, and even then, unexpected surprises still popped up. A map like the Marauder's Map in the Dark Lord's hands could help destroy a place like Hogwarts or the Ministry of Magic, but maybe that was why the fatuous Gryffindors had been able to create it. Hogwarts knew they meant no harm and mischief was the only intent behind it. 

Severus suspected that the default state of the universe was magical, and non-magical individuals were simply cut off for some reason, although wizards, especially Purebloods, liked to think themselves inherently magical and changing a non-magical universe to their will. It explained why Hogwarts still regarded him as Headmaster and granted him all the powers that the position entailed, even though he'd not held his post for long, and had vacated the castle the week before. It explained why he felt this ever-pressing _need_ to return to the castle and make absolutely certain that the children were safe. He had never been so heartless as to even consider allowing a bunch of innocent children to be killed unless it was absolutely necessary to the cause, and there wasn't any other way around it. Even then, it was not something he would have done gladly. 

Still, in the past, his duty to _her_ had always overridden everything else, to the point that if keeping Potter alive meant the destruction of Hogwarts, the only place he had ever regarded as his home, and everyone in it, he would make that sacrifice for her. Maybe it was just that he'd already resigned himself to Potter's death, but now, he found that he didn't really care what physical or mental harm they caused the boy as much as he cared about the fate of Hogwarts.

Severus needed to find out what was happening at the castle. The urge to know made it impossible for him to focus on Potter's sleeping form or the post he was pretending to read. He downed the rest of his food and strode off to his bedroom. Once inside, he set up wards and pulled out Albus's portrait. "How is Hogwarts?" he asked. 

"Everything is fine," said Albus soothingly. "The house-elves have removed the students who were in danger bit by bit and now most of those who remain are related to Death Eaters or loyal to Lord Voldemort. Whilst several youngsters remain in the castle and cause mischief, most have gone into hiding elsewhere. I've heard that Miss Granger and Mr Weasley have met up with a few, but they've been given strict instructions to avoid the castle at all costs."

"Good," said Severus, and he meant it. 

Due to his relief, he was so relaxed that Potter's escape attempt caught him completely by surprise.

 

_Please review!_


	8. Chapter 8

  
Author's notes: Severus's POV of the epic Nights of Gethsemane. When the Dark Lord captures Potter, Severus is forced to do his best to protect Potter whilst remaining in the Dark Lord's favour.  


* * *

Severus stormed to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. With angry flicks of his wand he cast tight, protective wards around the room. Yanking Albus's portrait out from his robe, he enlarged it, setting it on the desk. Never one to bother with pleasantries when they weren't required, Severus said, "He tried to escape," as soon as he caught a glimpse of the periwinkle robes. "He made it to my bedroom before I caught him."

"Did he now?" Albus chuckled. "He's always been inventive." 

"It's not amusing," insisted Severus, his jaw clenching, his hands stiff as he fixed himself a drink. He kept glancing in the mirror, checking to be sure Potter was still in his cage. "I will be killed if he leaves. The Dark Lord will not be merciful." He would likely receive punishment for the escape attempt. It had happened too quickly for him to remember a good cut-off point, and who knew what sort of hidden triggers remained in the house that kept track of the boy's movements. He'd already sent a note to the Dark Lord explaining what had happened, but the Dark Lord hadn't responded. Presumably he intended to give his reply with his wand. 

"He didn’t come close to actually escaping, did he?" 

Severus took a generous sip of his scotch. "The alerts I've placed around the house allow me to know when someone enters each section; there are wards over every door, and the windows are sealed, but he could've found the guns in the secret cupboard in my bedroom and shot me or made a hole in the wall." 

His eyebrows rising, Albus asked, "The guns are that powerful?" 

Severus had no idea. He'd never seen a gun until he'd found the hidden cupboard. They unnerved him. Even an idiot like Potter could kill him with a gun just by pulling the trigger. At least the Killing Curse required finesse and attention. "Either way, he could have killed me."

Albus soothingly said, "You can't blame him, Severus. Even without the threat of violence hanging over his head, he's still being held captive with nothing constructive to occupy his time." 

Severus snorted. "Shall I entertain him with song and dance?" 

The glare Albus shot him seemed a rather harsh rebuke. "He's frightened and alone. You could at least give him a book or find some other means to divert him. You did quite well at convincing him that you were to be hated and not trusted, but now you need to find a way to give him strength." 

Severus nearly choked on his drink. Catching his breath, he replied, "I can't exactly play nice with the child without the Dark Lord growing suspicious of me." 

Steadily, Albus gazed at him and retorted, "You will find a way. You are quite clever, Severus, and I have no doubt that you can maintain your charade whilst finding ways to support Harry mentally. Remember, Harry is an orphan, raised by abusive relatives. You know exactly what he needs and how powerful his craving is." 

Albus loved to compare Severus and Potter as if they were both offspring of his, and Potter the golden child. Their pre-Hogwarts backgrounds were fairly similar, although Potter's relatives had never given him any scars according to Albus. However, all that ended at Hogwarts. Potter had received affection and praise even before he entered the school, and his and his father's pranks were regarded with amusement, even by the staff. When Gryffindors pulled a prank, it was playful fun. When Slytherins did the same, it was out of viciousness. It was even worse that both Potters were star Quidditch players because, for some reason, one's ability to chase around a ball was more highly prized than intellect or creativity. If Draco had used the Sectumsempra on Potter, there would have been talk of expulsion, rather than disappointment. 

Unlike Severus, Potter had always had acceptance, love, and praise at Hogwarts. Sure, there were a few times when the wizarding world at large had turned against him, but his two sidekicks had remained with him for the entirety of his Hogwarts career and even now stayed loyal to him. He'd always had the support of the staff and the Headmaster. If anything, this experience was good for him because it taught him just how dangerous the world was outside of the coddling of Hogwarts. 

"Potter needs the Dark Lord defeated, and that's the point on which I will focus." Unwilling to hear more about how he needed to pamper the spoiled child further, Severus shrunk the portrait and shoved it in his robes. 

He strode to his lab, cursing Albus for expecting the impossible. The moment he stepped outdoors, Strix screeched at him from a perch in the rafters. She flew down, her talons spread and beak snapping. Ignoring her nips, he worked the letter she was carrying off her leg. "It's not my fault you aren't permitted in the house," he muttered as he tore through the final straps. She flew off with an indignant screech and he had to curl his hand into a fist to prevent himself from retaliating against her. She was just a stupid owl. A stupid, useless owl, like nearly everything else in his life. 

As soon as the door to the lab closed behind him, he glanced at the letter, which was only the second private one he'd received by owl since he'd arrived at the prison. The Malfoy crest guarding the seal caught his eye and he paused in the stairwell, his attention fully drawn to the thin bit of paper. 

Had Lucius decided to renew their friendship? Intrigued, he rubbed his thumb over the seal. The snakes slithered away, releasing their hold on the folds of paper. Instead of the expected bold script of Lucius, the writing inside had been penned by an individual with a restrained, well-trained quill.

Narcissa. Narcissa approaching him repeatedly could only mean one thing: Lucius no longer wished to associate with him. Was this really how a lifelong friendship was to end? After nearly twenty-seven years, was it all to be thrown away on account of pride? And for what? Control of Potter? Let Lucius have the little snot. Severus sure as hell had no desire to babysit, and, unlike Lucius, he'd done plenty to earn the Dark Lord's esteem on his own merits. 

Crumbling the letter in his fist, Severus marched down the steps. How dare he. No, how dare they. If Lucius was unwilling to associate with Severus, he had no business sending his wife to do what his pride would not allow him. It was a despicable move, and Severus would not stand for it. Either Lucius dealt with him, or he would not interact with the Malfoys outside of what the Dark Lord required.

He would ignore the letter and hand it back to Lucius in front of the Dark Lord. Let _him_ deal with it. He savagely threw it on the worktable. He needed allies, not fickle bastards like Lucius. 

He needed allies. 

Fuck the Malfoys. Fuck that stupid little prat who'd brought all this upon him.   
He stared at the letter. 

He'd already opened it. It sat there, the corners slightly curled up like a blooming flower bud. If he handed it back now, it would be natural to assume he'd rejected the contents. If he didn't know what he supposedly rejected, they'd have him at a disadvantage. 

Slowly, he reached across the table and picked up the letter. He hated letters. It was easy to lie and misdirect on paper. You could never trust written words as much as spoken ones. Inflection, tone, posture, everything mattered, everything that could hide in ink and parchment. No one confessed in a letter.

Sighing to himself, he read.

_Dear Severus,  
I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of affixing a letter to your owl when I saw her delivering your post to the Apothecary. I obtained her and, as far as I know, the Dark Lord and myself are the only two who recognise her by sight. I understand that her identity is not meant to be widely known, and I do not wish to go against the Dark Lord's wishes, so please do not send a reply to me unless you can be certain that even my husband will not see your owl._

Intrigued, Severus slid onto one of the work stools. It would have been simple for her to arrange a way for him to reply without using Strix if she had been concerned about revealing Severus's owl. Did she genuinely want to hide her dealings from her husband or were the two of them plotting together? 

_My son tells me that Hogwarts is not the same without you, and I am concerned for his educational future in these troubled times. Who knows how long it will be before the Order is suppressed? Without a proper education, I fear my son will never rise in service to the Dark Lord. I understand that you are extremely busy, and your isolation prevents you from taking on an apprentice even if you were inclined to do so, but if you could be so kind as to spare a moment to suggest a few books I can give to Draco to supplement his learning, or the name of a professional who can keep him focused on his studies, I would be eternally grateful._

Narcissa cared for Draco more than anything in the world, and she would do her best to make sure her son ended up alive and protected, no matter the outcome of the war. She wanted her son to be safely kept away in a world of education, rather than have him sent on dangerous tasks. Did Lucius share her concern? He had to remember how the Dark Lord had been willing to sacrifice his son to punish him. Severus would never have forgiven him for such a thing, but he wasn't Lucius. 

_I realise that you have already sacrificed much for the sake of my family and I do believe that I owe my son's life to you. Such a debt can never be repaid and I do not turn to you now because you have been so generous with your favours, but because I have no one else to turn to. Thank you for your time and the potions.  
Narcissa_

Severus refolded the letter and put it in a pocket. She had made no attempts to appeal to his vanity. No declarations of how his loyalty and devotion to the Dark Lord made him one who could be trusted above all others. Lucius was a reluctant arse kisser, but like many Death Eaters, he understood that all favours came with a price, and if a little brown-nosing meant the difference between acceptance and rejection, it was worth it. Perhaps Lucius had written it that way to convince Severus he wasn’t the author, but Severus's instincts told him otherwise. Lucius was far too proud to ever admit such vulnerability. Narcissa could've written the letter with Lucius looking over her shoulder or suggesting what to write, but she had written it.

How far would Narcissa go to protect her son? She'd never taken the Dark Mark, but the Dark Lord had trusted her enough to let her pick out an owl and travel to the prison unescorted. He needed to interact with her to better gauge the situation. Folding up the letter, he slipped it into his pocket as he strode over to examine his potions. With Strix so unreliable, and the distance between Diagon Alley and his present location unknown, he had no idea when she'd sent the letter, other than it had been after he'd given her the potions, which had been three days before. Even if Strix had taken breaks, to know the answer would give him a better idea of range. How far could an owl fly in three days? Species and weather had to be influential. If only he had an excuse to buy a book on owl physiology! Maybe if he pretended to be researching potions ingredients.... 

Rather than run to his library as he wished, he kept his attention on stirring the healing potion before him. A sudden change in behaviour might be too difficult to explain. 

For several agonising hours, he worked steadily on the potions. When he felt that enough time had passed and the work was sufficient to halt for the moment, he headed to his library. It was only natural that he test out a variety of potions in order to figure out how to remove Potter's soul from his body. As far as he knew, only a Dementor's Kiss could deliberately steal a soul, and only the casting of the Killing Curse could cause it to shatter. His mind entirely preoccupied with the infuriating expanse of his ignorance, he didn't realise he'd forgotten to bring the viewing mirror along with him until he stepped into the library. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd glanced at Potter; his last memory was of chaining him to the bed and feeding him a sleeping potion, hours earlier. 

Shoving open the library door, he marched into the hallway to find Potter sitting in the corner of his bed. Severus had forgotten to remove the chains after the escape attempt and dinner had appeared on the table, seemingly to taunt the boy. 

"It won't work," declared Potter, his arms crossed tight against his chest.

"What won't work?" asked Severus idly. 

In the same petulant tone, Potter said, "Whatever you're trying to do. I'll kill him or die trying, and there's nothing you can do to stop me or convince me otherwise."

Remembering how Albus had always begged him to try to treat the boy with a measure of respect, Severus released him from the chains. "I shall look forward to that day." There. Ambiguity as to what outcome he preferred, although he suspected that Potter was far too dense to pick up on the subtle clue. 

Potter's scowl twisted even further. "Gonna take me for another bath, you sick fuck?"

How could he ever find compromise with _this_? Showing all of his hate and disgust on his face, he sneered, "As if I'd ever defile myself with the likes of you." 

Turning around on his heel, he strode to the door, only to hear a loud bang behind him the moment his fingers touched the knob. He spun around, just in time to see the full cup of pumpkin juice sailing at him through the bars and, instinctively, he dodged it as if it were a curse, jumping to the side while he flicked his wand, ready to throw the counter-curse. He somehow managed to stop himself; he didn't dare hurt Potter, but in his distraction, he couldn't avoid the flying cup, and cold pumpkin juice splattered all over the right side of his body. 

Blood pounding in his ears, Severus slashed his wand, opening the bars of the cage. Potter grabbed the chair he'd knocked over, throwing it at Severus, but his arms couldn't handle the full weight, and it didn't fly far before Severus caught it with his wand and sent it hurtling into the wall at the other end of the cell. Years of Potter's insults and aggravations flashed before him, and when Potter charged, he had to stop himself from attacking. This wasn't James Potter. He couldn't hurt the boy. Instead, he cast the rope spell, binding Potter in place with thin, cordlike black ropes. 

"Coward!" yelled Potter, his face blotched a furious shade of red, "Fight me!" 

How he wanted to! The petty little jabs pierced deep. No one could unhinge him like Potter. Even the Dark Lord had never gotten under his skin nearly as much as the brat. "Shut up, you stupid child!" Marching forward, he shoved Potter back onto the bed, pulling him fully onto the mattress, and binding him again with the chaining spell. His fingers shook, and he longed to wrap his hands around that slender neck and squeeze until he could no longer feel a pulse, but he couldn't hurt Potter. Even if Potter deserved it. As calmly as he could manage, he reminded the brat, "I don't need to hurt you to torture you."

"Go ahead, you arsehole! Go ahead!" Potter screamed, his face red. "You killed Dumbledore. He defended you and you killed him!" 

_I did. For you._ Severus grabbed the pillow and stripped it of its pillowcase, stuffing the fabric in Potter's mouth before the next accusation could be heard. Potter let out a muffled scream of rage and tugged at his bonds. 

Straightening up, Severus took two calming breaths. He would not hurt him. He would not treat the prat as he deserved. Once Severus felt that he could speak in a measured tone, he said, "Despite what you may think, I have better things to do with my time than torture you. If you treat me with disrespect then I will punish you, but otherwise you will be left alone." He removed the ropes and, knowing he would probably regret it, he pulled the pillowcase out of Potter's mouth. 

"I don't care," hissed Potter, twisting against the chains like a cat about to be thrown in the bath. "I don't care what you do to me. I'm not-" 

The idiot had a death wish. Severus raised an eyebrow. "You really don't care at all?"

He menacingly levelled his wand at Potter's face. "I can do whatever I like and you won't care?" 

Potter didn't even flinch, his eyes narrowing. "I won't give up. I won't stop until he's dead and you've paid for what you've done." He tugged viciously at the chains binding his wrists. "Fight me, you coward." 

Dryly, Severus retorted, "So I can thrash you again?" 

"Fuck you." Potter flailed a leg which did nothing but muss up his blankets. "You're a pathetic coward who betrayed a man who _trusted_ you." 

_Breathe. He's only doing this because he has no other weapon and he saw how much 'coward' unhinged you last time._ He wouldn't give the prat an inch. Slipping his wand back into his sleeve, he said, with a pointed look at Potter, "Albus certainly wasn't very good at choosing those who could most effectively reach his goals."

If Potter registered the insult, he didn't show it. "You bastard! He didn't care about efficiency, he cared about trust and love, two things you know nothing about!" 

Severus snorted, simply because he knew it would enrage the boy and Potter reacted accordingly, snarling through his teeth and kicking out his legs as if the skinny, flailing limbs could somehow be terrifying.

It was so easy to provoke Potter. Amusing, too. "What _you_ know nothing about could fill the halls of Hogwarts." 

Potter bared his teeth, his thin legs flying all over again. "At least I'm not a half-blood slave to Pureblood bullshit. Your _Master_ isn't even a Pureblood, but-" 

Severus _really_ wasn't supposed to know that. This brat would be the death of him. He whipped out his wand, pointed it at Potter's face and hissed, "How dare you-"

"Voldemort-" 

"Do _not_ say his name!" 

An obstinate look passed over Potter's face, then he shrieked, "VOLDEMORT! COME FIGHT ME, VOLDEMORT!" 

_No more._ Severus slashed his wand. " _Angustus pulmonarius!_ " 

Potter's eyes went wide, his chest rising as he gasped for the breath that the lung-constricting spell wouldn't allow him to take. The curse wouldn't hurt him as long as Severus let it up before he actually asphyxiated. _One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand._ Severus calmly watched as Potter clawed at the chains, the jerking of his legs growing ever more frantic as his face purpled. If the brat insisted on provoking him, then how could he not react? 

_He needs you more than you can possibly imagine._

_Curse you, Albus. You've never seen what a whiney, arrogant little shit he is._

He let it go to fifteen before he released Potter and watched as the boy sucked in huge gulps of air. When he felt Potter could speak, he said, "If you behave, then you may eat. Otherwise-" 

Deep, ragged gulps of air rattled Potter's chest. "Fuck you," he finally spat out. 

" _Angustus pulmonarius!_ "

Screwing his eyes shut, Potter pressed his face into his shoulder.

_...Two one thousand. Three one thousand._ Tension thrummed through Potter's body like a wire held tight, his fingers curled into fists. It wouldn't work. The bastard was going to wait it out. Severus let it go to ten, just out of spite, then released the spell. He'd have to try something else. Maybe it was time for the specially prepared cupboard. 

With a flick of his wand, he cleared the table of food. "Fine then. You won't eat."

Potter pulled himself as far upright as the chains would allow. Scornfully he said, "I'm not eating any of your shitty food."

Oh, what he would do if he was allowed to cause even the slightest amount of pain to that insufferable child! If only the Dark Lord hadn't commanded that he restrict his magic use around Potter! He was in danger as it was to use magic on the boy, although he couldn't let the Dark Lord see Potter's insolence go unpunished. _Calm. You can deal with this._ Through gritted teeth, he said, "I don't cook. I have better things to do with my time."

Potter made a noise halfway between a scoff and a choke. "Like kissing Voldemort's arse?"

" _Angustus pulmonarius!_ " He needed to leave before he did something rash. Turning on his heel, he marched out of the cell, closing the bars behind him. He didn't let up on the choking spell until he reached the kitchen door. 

_Bloody prick_. If some sadistic deity should try to think of the perfect irritant, they would be hard-pressed to beat Potter. It didn't seem possible that one small child could be a greater thorn in his side than the Dark Lord himself, but somehow, he was. 

Severus had just left the house when the tug of wards alerted him to someone's arrival in his lab. Ah yes, someone to come punish him for allowing the little shit to speak the Dark Lord's name multiple times. The name said once could be the murmur of a half-conscious boy, but not multiple times in a row. Maybe even the Dark Lord himself had come to inflict the punishment. He threw open the door to find a young, acne-covered Death Eater standing on the landing. 

How did these brats have access to come and go as they pleased when he, nearly the Dark Lord's right-hand man, did not? 

Unleashing his fury in a snarl, he asked, "What do you want?" 

The boy gulped audibly, his eyes darting around as if looking for a quick exit. "Uh, your post, sir." He held up a small bundle. 

Severus ripped it from his hand. "Get the fuck out." 

Swallowing again, the boy stammered, "Your . . . potions . . . order?"

His blood pounding so hard in his head he could barely think, Severus whipped out his wand. "Don't . . . make me repeat myself." 

"Yessir!" The boy ran, nearly tripping on the hem of his robes. 

Severus stomped down the steps, wishing he had another door to slam. His father had once slammed the door so hard, the foundation had cracked. Inside his lab, he glanced at the mirror, finding Potter pouting on his bed. _You_ stupid _child._ He needed a drink. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and resisted the urge to smash something. He was too tightly wound to brew properly, so he grabbed the mirror and resized it, stuffing it into his pocket before he stomped his way back to the library and set the mirror up on the fireplace mantle. 

With the task of finding a way to acquire more information about owls occupying his mind, it was easy to put his anger to the side, especially when he found that owl feathers were sometimes used in potions designed to heal the cerebral cortex. It wasn't entirely what he wanted -- souls existed outside Muggle science --, but he was sure he could cobble together an explanation that would convince the Dark Lord his interest in the potion, and therefore owl anatomy, was legitimate. 

The rare boon was such an unexpected find that when he glanced in the mirror to check on Potter after reading a promising chapter and found the boy awkwardly positioned on the bed, peeing off the side, the familiar shot of anger never arose. He had been remiss to keep the boy chained in place for such a long time. That whole situation had been a mistake. The Dark Lord had never even responded to the use of his name, and it had been four hours since the event. He'd also never said anything about the other times when his name had escaped Potter's lips. 

Why? 

It was odd, wasn't it? Why would the Dark Lord allow himself to be so disrespected by Potter? Could he not tell? Were the wards so powerful that no one was alerted to the use of the name? Was Potter now effectively a Muggle and therefore the curse didn't respond to him? Was Potter somehow a non-person? None of the explanations made sense. It was possible the Dark Lord just didn't care, but Severus refused to believe that. The Dark Lord was very particular about certain things. 

Time to perform a little experiment and do a bit of what needed to be done. He shouldn't know the Dark Lord's secret anyway, and Potter's hatred of him would only increase after what had happened earlier. Turning back to his book, he calmly perused the page, then set the book to the side. Placing his hand upon the bookshelf, his fingers resting against _One Thousand and One New Uses for Magical Plants_ , he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he pulled out Dumbledore's portrait and, when he saw the man, said, "I'll be needing you shortly." After sticking the portrait back in his robes, he headed straight for the cell, Summoning a flannel from the bathroom to himself when he stepped through the door. 

"Fucking arsehole," muttered Potter, who started writhing frantically against the sheets, trying to get his penis back in his bottoms. 

Severus removed the chains, poured water from his wand on the flannel and threw it at Potter. "Clean yourself." 

Turning away, Potter dabbed at himself with the cloth while he muttered obscenities under his breath. 

Severus took a deep breath. Since Potter would never remember what was about to transpire, there was no sense in hesitating to try out different techniques of dealing with the boy. 

In a calm, steady voice, he said, "The house-elves have destroyed your uneaten food, but they can certainly make you something better if you'll behave yourself. If you'll stay calm, I'll take you to the kitchen." 

Potter shot towards the edge of the bed like an eager puppy about to be taken for a walk. "You have house-elves here?" 

_What an idiot_. " _Of course_ there are house-elves. Most of the Dark Lord's followersare Purebloods, and more than a few have given elves to his Lordship in their wills. How thick are you?" 

Potter rolled his eyes and Severus continued in the same, slightly mocking tone before he could interrupt. "As you can imagine, _I_ don't care if you eat or not, but the Dark Lord has decreed you are to be in good health before he . . . deals with you." _There, give the boy a scare, reaffirm antagonism lest he grow suspicious, and suggest a reason you'd be stupid enough to drag him out of his cell._ "Believe me, Potter, I'd rather let you rot, but we mustn't disobey the Dark Lord's orders. Place your hands behind your back." 

Potter stared at Severus through narrowed eyes and, for a moment, Severus thought that he had the sense to recognise a trap. Instead, he tossed the flannel onto the puddle of piss and climbed off the bed, turning around and placing his hands together behind his back. With an arrogant toss of his messy hair, he stated, "If you'd rather I rot, then I'd rather eat." 

All too easy.


	9. Invictus Chapter 9

Potter barely struggled as Severus dragged him through the library and up the stairs. It was only when Severus opened his bedroom door and pulled Potter through, shutting the door behind him, that the true resistance began.

When Potter’s ever-widening eyes took in the huge bed, parchment-strewn desk, and covered windows, he planted his heels and bellowed, "This isn't the kitchen!"

"How astute you are." Dragging Potter over to the bed, Severus shoved him face down on it, holding him in place with a hand pressed firmly on his lower back. Considering the softness of the covers, Severus could apply a decent amount of pressure before he'd actually hurt the boy. He grabbed hold of the pyjama bottoms and Potter yelled unintelligibly into the bedspread, his legs kicking out furiously as he bucked and wriggled more than seemed humanly possible. 

This would be so much easier if he were allowed to use magic freely, but with the Dark Lord's restrictions and his need to keep this moment secret, the less magic he used, the better. He’d have to restrain the boy the Muggle way, as obnoxious as that was. Severus straddled Potter's back as he stripped off the bottoms, then knelt on Potter's thighs, ignoring the screaming and kicking, as he carefully cut away the shirt, tossing it to the side. 

The clothes he'd picked out earlier had presumably belonged to one of the previous owner’s sons, and Severus Summoned the trousers first, figuring the pants were a lost cause. Trapping one of Potter’s thrashing legs under his own, Severus somehow managed to get the trousers on. As soon as he pulled the cloth up over Potter’s hips, the boy’s struggles nearly ceased and he lay there, his limbs jerking and his back heaving as he gulped air. Severus worked the jumper over Potter’s head, but it was an easier task, as Potter only wriggled mildly this time around.

"I can dress myself," Potter said into the pillow when he finally spoke.

Since the boy had calmed, Severus shifted off his back, holding him in place with one hand. Potter lay there, silent and still, as Severus Summoned an old t-shirt to himself. “I don’t trust you with your hands untied.”

“I don’t want you to touch me,” Potter said, quietly but firmly. “I promise I won’t try to run. Let me dress myself.”

He’d have to release Potter’s wrists to get the jumper on, unless he was to cut it up, then repair it after wrapping it around the boy’s limbs.

“Fine,” he said, as he put one knee on Potter’s back to hold him in place and tore up the t-shirt. “After you’re tied to the bed, I’ll release your hands.” He didn’t expect Potter to behave, but when he grabbed the boy’s ankle and wrapped a strip of the t-shirt around it, Potter only gave his leg a slight jerk.

Severus tied him to the bed frame, then fully released him, stepping back from the bed when he was finished. He removed the chain binding Potter’s wrists together, but kept his wand out and aimed at Potter.

Sitting up, Potter pointedly ignored Severus to focus on dressing himself. He pulled on the jumper, then zipped and buttoned the trousers, brushing down the fabric. When his wrists strayed close to each other, Severus recast the chaining spell.

The clothes seemed to fit. The sleeves of the jumper hung down over Potter’s hands, which gave the boy an awkward look, but they concealed the cuffs on his wrists.

Severus grabbed the shoes and socks and tossed them to the bed beside the boy. Without fuss, Potter picked up a sock and pulled it on his free foot. Severus removed the remains of the t-shirt with magic, not wanting to approach any closer than necessary.

He waited until Potter was busy lacing up the second shoe, then lunged forward and grabbed him. Potter yelped and tried to jerk away, but Severus quickly pulled him off the bed and shoved him into the desk chair, casting the rope spell to bind him to it.

The result turned out better than he had expected. Not only could Potter barely move, but his arms had been tied to the armrest, making it a simple matter for Severus to access his hands.

Although Potter had been fully cleaned by the Healers, he’d still somehow managed to get dirt under his nails. Teenaged boys were disgusting creatures. Severus pressed his hand flat over Potter’s to hold it in place while he used a cutting spell to carefully trim the nails. After he was done with both hands, he cast cleaning spells over them. He Summoned a flannel from the bathroom and, pouring water from his wand onto it, scrubbed it over the boy’s face while Potter sputtered and glared at him.

“Stop it! I can bathe myself!”

Severus ignored him. The obnoxious hair had grown back unevenly due to Potter’s injuries, and stuck out in a frightful manner. Never one to use it himself, Severus had no hair gel on hand. He poured water into his palm and ran that through Potter’s hair, but somehow, that just made it stick out all the more. Of course, Potter would find away to defy him, even with his hair. With no other option left to him, Severus was forced to trim just the longest strands, and only slightly. The Dark Lord wouldn’t notice a smaller haircut, but a bigger one would be impossible to explain.

If only he'd remembered to shave the boy earlier! He couldn't do it without magic or Potter heavily sedated. If he tied the boy's head securely, it might be safe to approach him with a razor, but the Dark Lord would certainly notice if hair suddenly disappeared from Potter's face between memories. If Kreacher knew his master to be fastidious in appearance, the ruse would be discovered the moment the house-elf saw Potter’s unshaven face. Severus doubted that however; Potter was utterly slovenly.

Potter, blessedly silent and unusually complacent throughout the ordeal, finally spoke, "Why haven't you killed me?"

Severus felt for the bottles he needed within his robes and pulled them out, setting them on his desk. It would be easier to give Potter all the potions at the same time, but the Calming Potion was finicky, and had to be slowly stirred into the rest, with a few drops of a stabilising potion to help settle it. As he worked, he asked, "Isn't that obvious?"

Potter made a noise of disgust and arrogantly declared, "I'm not a cowardly murderer like you. I don't think like you. How the fuck should I know?"

Calmly, Severus said, "I wasn't aware you had the capacity to think."

"Fuck you," said Potter, never clever. "If you think you’ve won, you’re wrong."

The potion prepared, Severus turned to Potter. "There are two ways to give you this potion. Either you will drink it willingly, or I will force it down your throat."

Narrowing his eyes in defiance, Potter quickly said, "I'm not drinking it." 

"As I expected. I'm only informing you of this so that you will know and remember there is an easier way." Potter wouldn't remember any of this, but he did deserve to understand that any discomfort was his own fault. Removing the glass stopper from the bottle, Severus transformed it into a ring and swept over to Potter.

His mouth squeezed closed, Potter glared at Severus, his silent stare a challenge. Severus calmly reached down and pinched Potter's nose shut. Potter held out as long as he could, but soon he had to open his mouth and, when he did, Severus shoved the ring inside. Potter's jaw flexed, but he couldn't gain the force necessary to crush the ring and shut his mouth. 

Holding the boy's chin in place, Severus picked up the long, thin, flexible tube he'd brought to the room for just this purpose. "Swallow." 

Threading the tube through the glass ring, Severus buried it deep in Potter's throat and poured a bit of saline solution through the tube. Potter's eyes bugged out as he choked and coughed around the tube, his limbs pulling against his bonds. 

"Idiot. Didn't I warn you to swallow?" As the drowning sensation would only panic rather than hurt Potter, Severus watched silently for a moment as Potter struggled for breath, staring at Severus with growing desperation. When he felt the boy had been suitably punished, he cast, " _Anapneo!_ " and yanked the tube up. 

Potter gulped down huge breaths of air and Severus waited until he'd calmed somewhat before he picked up the tube again. "I can do this all day," he lied. "Now swallow." 

It took three tries before Potter gave in and swallowed the tube. When Potter didn't react to the bit of saline solution, Severus assumed the tube had gone down the correct pipe, and fed him the potion before pulling out the tube. 

He waved the stopper away and Potter made several loud retching sounds. He’d have to find another way to feed Potter potions whilst conscious. This one took too long.

Severus warned him, "If you throw it back up, I'll just feed it to you again." He cleared his desk as he waited, but the potions took effect before he finished. When he next turned back around, the boy was hunched over in his seat as far as the cloth bindings allowed. Stepping forward, Severus gently pushed up his chin to view dull and glassy eyes. 

" _Imperio!_ ”

Holding him firmly, Severus forced those green eyes to stare into his own. "Potter, it is vitally important that you listen to me. Granger and Weasley are in severe danger. The entire Order is in danger. I will help you save them, but you must be very careful and follow my plan exactly. Kreacher can help, but he _must_ be kept safe. The Dark Lord has put a high price on his head." To twist the knife and because he knew it wouldn't be remembered, he added, "Dobby was murdered, and Kreacher and your friends will be too, unless you do exactly what I tell you. The Horcruxes must be destroyed, and you cannot do that without help. The Cup is most likely in Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts and we need to get it, otherwise thousands -- millions -- will die. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," breathed Potter.

"Will you do exactly as I say in order to ensure Kreacher's survival and the safety of your friends?"

"Yes." He nodded, his eyes staring at some point past Severus's face.

"Good." Severus untied the bonds and helped Potter to his unsteady feet. The secret cupboard held only a few boxes and, with the viewing spell placed on the ceiling, Severus would know in an instant if Potter were to reach for one of the boxes that held the guns. 

After positioning Potter in the cupboard, Severus closed the door. He pulled out the portrait of Dumbledore and informed him, "I'm having the boy summon Kreacher." When Dumbledore nodded and strode out of the frame, he prompted Harry, _Summon Kreacher_.

After a short moment, Severus heard the pop of Apparition and the house-elf appeared on a stack of boxes in the narrow cupboard. He bowed to Potter. Severus pointed his wand at the door, ready to burst in should Kreacher show any sign of recognising the curse placed on his Master. He sucked in a breath and prepared for the worst. If he and Albus had calculated wrong, Kreacher would whisk Potter away and he would be killed.

To his relief, Kreacher only looked at Potter expectantly and said, “Yes, Master Harry?” 

_Tell him that he is to locate where Bellatrix keeps her vault key, but warn him that he must be extremely careful._

In a remarkably clear voice, Potter said, "Kreacher, we need to get the Hufflepuff Cup out of the Lestrange vault. We need Bellatrix's key. If you can find it, please let us know where it is, but you _must_ be very careful and not let anyone see you. If you can't stay hidden, then don't try to find it."

"Yes, Master Harry."

Foolish boy. Did Potter not understand the importance of this task? Why had he told Kreacher the exact name of the item they sought? If the house-elf should be captured or have too loose a tongue...

Too late now. It would require too much work to correct it and the more he went against Potter's natural inclination, the more likely Potter could break the spell and escape. _Tell him that he's to report to Dumbledore’s portrait every three days, as long as it is safe to do so. Dumbledore will pass him most of his orders from now on, and you will only call him yourself when you need him. Dumbledore will meet him in the far west corridor of the dungeons._ He had been stupid and clumsy not to set up such an arrangement earlier. 

"It's not safe for me to call you, so check in with Dumbledore’s portrait every three days, but only if it’s safe to do so. He'll be waiting for you in the far west corridor of the dungeons. Don’t be seen."

_Remind him that he's always to check with Dumbledore before appearing if you summon him. Have him go to the far west corridor now, instead of the Headmaster's office._ While it was likely that Severus would retain his power as Headmaster and therefore none of the portraits could betray him, he hated taking chances. 

"I don't want you to be killed on account of me, so check in with Dumbledore before you come to me whenever I summon you from now on."

_It's dangerous for him to linger. Send him away._

"Thank you, Kreacher. Go now, before they find us. And, if you have the chance and it’s safe, check on Ginny and make sure she's okay. If you think she's in danger, get her to Ron and Hermione."

"I will, Master Harry." Kreacher bowed and Disapparated with a loud crack.

The boy's friends would be the death of him. Severus opened the cupboard door, and pulled Potter out to the bedroom. _Undress_. As Potter stood in the centre of the room, shamelessly taking off his clothes, Severus repaired the cut-up jumper and threw it and the pyjama bottoms on the floor next to Potter's feet. _Put those on_. 

He was pushing the limits of the spell. He had already cast a considerable amount of magic. As soon as the boy started dressing, Severus lifted the Imperius Curse. Thankfully, the Calming Draught had been strong enough that Potter finished dressing and sleepily walked back to his cage on his own. Severus re-chained him once he'd climbed back on the bed.

He destroyed the urine-soaked flannel, relocated the viewing spell above the bed, and pointed his wand straight between Potter's eyes. " _Obliviate!_ "

After he’d removed the memories, he returned to the library and, finding _One Thousand and One New Uses for Magical Plants_ , he resumed the same pose as before, and shut his eyes. 

There. As far as the Dark Lord and Potter would know, he had never gone in Potter's cage all day. He could cut off the earlier memory of entering Potter’s cage at the point where his hand touched the library doorknob. He couldn’t remove the entire section, as he’d had a visitor.

He plucked the book off the shelf and sent it to the reading table next to the sofa. Earlier, he'd ordered every book of which he could think that might contain information on how to get the Horcrux out of Potter, but he hadn’t had time to read through them all. As of now, it seemed a nearly impossible task. He'd already read everything he could find on Dementors, and no one knew how they removed the soul, or even if the soul _was_ completely removed by the Kiss. None of the books that mentioned Horcruxes said how the spell worked, but he had expected that, as a frighteningly small percentage of wizards saw magic as something to be approached with a scientific mind, and the ones that did, rarely concerned themselves with why and how magic worked.

He trailed his fingers over the shelves as he examined his ever-growing library. How could he get that bit of soul out of Potter? With the soul removed he could find a way to keep the boy safe and hidden from the Dark Lord until after the Dark Lord was destroyed. Potter wouldn’t need to die.

No. He shouldn't get his hopes up. He needed to focus on convincing the Dark Lord to kill Potter, not on how to save Potter’s life. 

If he could fake transplanting the Horcrux, the Dark Lord would have no reason to keep the boy alive and could be persuaded to kill him. But what sort of fake Horcrux container would be believable? Maybe another Potter body was what he needed? 

When Karkaroff had subtly approached him about removing his arm and growing a new one, he'd investigated the matter in depth even though, unlike Karkaroff, he knew in his gut that it wouldn't work. The Mark on their arms was simply the visual manifestation of a control that spread throughout their entire bodies. Just in case, he'd investigated how to grow new bone, tissue, and flesh, something that had proved very fruitful during the treatment of Potter's severe injuries. An entire separate body would take a considerable amount of work. If he could even pull it off. Adding and reshaping were nothing like creating anew. 

A secret, separate body would be a useful thing to have, especially if he should ever need to fake the boy's death. No. He would never get away with it. Even if he could grow a replica of the boy's body, how would he hide it? The hours of work could be concealed, but not the body itself. Still, it was worth investigating further. He pulled a few more titles from the shelf and sent them to rest on the table as well.

After he’d found enough books to keep him busy for the rest of the evening, he lit a magical fire in the fireplace since he lacked the equipment to make a non-magical one. He’d have to request firewood with his next order.

He slid off his outer robes and kicked off his shoes before sinking into the comfortable sofa. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he reached into his robes and took out the picture of Lily he always kept tucked in his breast pocket. It was faded and tearing at the corner, and she stood in the centre, frozen at the age of fourteen, when she had still smiled at him like that, and they had been the best of friends.

~

"Okay, so you hold out your wand-"

Rather than pick up her wand, she asked, "Do we always need to use our wands to do magic?"

He paused to think, then guessed, "No, we don't need wands to fly on brooms. Or make potions." Then the answer came to him. "We did magic before we came here and we didn't have wands then."

She stretched out her thin, mostly bare legs, and readjusted herself on the small stone bench he'd selected out in the sunny courtyard, away from the other students. He tried not to stare at her as she smoothed her hands over her skirt. "Then why do we bother with wands at all?"

Surmising again, he answered, "It helps us direct our magic. Makes it better. All wizards have wands. They wouldn't have us buy them if they didn't work."

"I know they work," she said, somewhat dismissively, her eyelashes flickering fast. "But I don't see why we have to be reliant on our wands. They could break. Or get stolen. I'd rather learn magic without wands. I don't see why we can't."

He sighed to himself. She always did this. He would try to teach her something simple and more than half the lesson would be spent on 'why's or pointless sidetracks. Her questions were like aphids: pregnant at birth. Gently, he said, "There's a reason they teach us magic this way. They've been doing this for thousands of years."

She reached down to idly pluck a nearby flower. Holding it in her palm, she wiggled her other fingers over it, using her magic to make the petals twirl and dance. He'd always been curious to know how she did it, but didn't want her to know he didn't know. "But wouldn't it be better if we didn't need wands? Or brooms?"

He shut his book with a snap. Why did she have to ask so many questions? As patiently as he could, he said, "If wizards could fly without brooms, we'd do it."

Staring at her flower, she said, "I flew without a broom."

"You fell," he corrected.

She carefully laid her flower on the bench beside her and firmly said, "I flew a little bit."

"You fell," he said, louder. "You didn't fly, you fell."

She pinned him with a look and he had to look away and swallow his frustration. How would they ever get to the lessons if she kept asking all these questions? Unable to look at her when she was looking at him like that, he said more softly, "It may have been gliding, but it wasn't flying. It doesn't matter anyway. Proper flying starts from the ground and goes up." 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her give a nod in recognition, then frown slightly, "If we can levitate objects, then why can't we levitate ourselves?"

He'd hoped that going to Hogwarts would cure this habit of hers, but if anything, it had only gotten worse. "For the same reason we can't levitate anything big."

"We can't?" she asked, her eyebrows rising.

He snapped, "Have you tried?"

If she noticed his shortness of tone, she didn't react to it. "Of course, _we_ can't. I imagine we'll do all sorts of things when we're older, especially if we keep up our studies."

He couldn't help but grin at the inclusiveness of 'we'. "We'll be at the top of the class, especially if we devote at least an hour's worth of study to each subject each day."

"An hour?" She laughed. 

"You're surrounded by Gryffindors," he reminded her. "They aren't intelligent. I don't want to see you fall behind because of a sorting mistake."

Her gaze shifted to the lake, and she absently brushed a hand against her wind-tousled hair. "They aren't all like those puffed-up pinheads. Besides-" She shot a glance his way. "Maybe I'm meant to be in Gryffindor. I'm not nearly as smart as you."

His heart pounded and he pretended to look something up in his book lest she see the ugly red that was surely spreading across his face. A compliment! He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard one of those. And _she_ had given it to him. Her! He somehow managed to get out, "I think you're pretty- smart too." She was more than pretty, she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Should he say that? What was supposed to happen next?

She bent down and pulled a book out of her bag beside his feet, her arm brushing firmly against his as she sat back up. "Let's do Potions first," she said, opening her book. "It's my favourite and no wands are required."

He reluctantly returned his Defence Against the Dark Arts book to his bag. "Okay. You know, they do use wands in potion-making, just not as much."

"How do you suppose they make potions?" she mused. "Do you think it's like chemistry?"

"It's magic," he said. "It's not like chemistry at all. Magic is much more complex than chemistry."

"How so?"

Why couldn't she just accept things the way they were and not question everything? He'd go mad if she kept this up. "It's magic. It involves so many more variables."

Her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled, hiding some of her freckles. "You think that everything that wizards do is better than anything Muggles do."

He did, but he knew she wouldn't like it if he said it outright. Instead, he explained, "Wizards can do many more things with magic than Muggles can do with science. There's a reason we never have any need to turn to science." 

"Never?" she asked, the accusation still plain on her face.

He was pretty sure, but he had to admit, "I've never heard of wizards using science. It's possible, but I doubt it."

"I think we could learn a lot if we worked together. I notice that you're using your mum's old books."

All the bubbly happiness building in his chest vanished. He thought that it wouldn't matter to her, that she wouldn't care about something like that, but she had noticed, just as he’d feared she would. Mother had said that they didn't have money for new books or clothes, but Tobias still managed to visit the pub every night. He'd been looking forward to this moment together all day, and now he wanted to return to the quiet safety of the dungeons. 

She sailed on, oblivious to his discomfort. "Petunia said that science books are constantly updated, and that she could never use one of our mum's old books in her science classes." 

_Because we were intelligent enough to get it right the first time._ "Petunia is jealous," he said. "She'll say anything to put down our world. Maybe we don't need to publish new books because ours update themselves. We don't need the Muggles."

Sighing, she said, "I just don't see why we have to live in secret. I don't like concealing from my friends that I'm a witch. And I don't like Mum and Dad lying to everyone about me either. I wish we could be open about what we are and work together with Muggles.''

" _They_ made it so we have to," he pointed out to her. "They may not burn you at the stake now, but if they find out you're a witch, they'll try to put you in a madhouse, like they tried with my mother."

She picked up the flower, tucked it behind her ear and declared, "My parents are happy that I'm a witch."

"But not your sister."

A shadow crossed over her face and he knew from experience she would lapse into silence unless he pulled her out. Why she cared about that dumb Muggle's opinion, he'd never know. 

He flipped through the pages of the book until he found a complicated potion. "Have you seen this Forgetfulness Potion? It doesn't have a lot of ingredients, but the instructions are extremely precise. I hope we get started on these soon."

She tucked back her hair and scooted closer, her warm skin just half a foot from his own. She squinted at the instructions for a moment before asking, "Why does the direction in which you stir matter?"

What a stupid question. Maybe she was right. Maybe she was doomed to Gryffindor.


	10. Chapter 10

Happy Memorial Day!  
The corresponding NoG chapter to this is Chapter 3.

It sometimes seemed that just when Severus became convinced that he needed something, the universe provided him with exactly that, but a twisted version of it, just to prove to him happiness was not something he deserved. After days of limited human interaction (and he did not consider dealing with Potter proper interaction), a pack of Death Eaters descended on the prison, led by Avery Senior, who left shortly after with barely a nod of recognition to Severus.

Whilst the individuals sent to set up an elegant dinner stayed out of his way, they and the cleaning crew had to be watched to be certain they didn't approach the cellar. It made the added individuals come to help him brew unnecessary. If the Dark Lord was so concerned about who had access to Potter, then why send these low-ranking Death Eaters? Were they all to be Obliviated or killed afterwards? 

Potter hadn't woken after the incident the day before, and Severus fed him more sleeping potions to ensure that he wouldn't wake after the original ones wore off. After casting the viewing spell in his lab to spy on the workers, he retreated to Potter's cage, where he unchained the boy and floated him over to the table. The Dark Lord would probably demand to view Potter, if nothing else, so Severus carefully trimmed the uneven nails, cut the obnoxious hair down to a manageable level, and, after ensuring that Potter could not move his head, shaved his jaw with the new wizarding razor he'd ordered.

Even though the wizarding razor only caused a pinch rather than a nick when pressed too hard against the skin, Severus still had to be extremely careful navigating it around the unfamiliar contours of Potter's face. He'd have to find a magical way to quickly shave the boy in the future; this procedure was too tedious to rely on regularly. He already had plenty of mindless chores to occupy his time, and the less time he spent dealing with Potter, the better. Perhaps he should buy one of those obnoxious books on how to run a household. 

With Potter tidied and suitable for presentation, he worked the clothes off the limp frame, and set them on one of the chairs after folding. Hopefully the Dark Lord had thought to bring a Healer to examine their patient, but if he hadn't, then Severus ought to be sure Potter had recovered enough to be displayed and tortured. The Dark Lord did enjoy his entertainment. 

Even though all his earlier examinations had suggested Potter had healed well enough, Severus still ran the basic tests: monitoring vitals, examining flexibility, and searching for signs of rejection of the added flesh. The pinkish tint to the forehead scar suggested that Potter's true skin had begun dominating his face. Only slight marks remained other than three main scars: the lightning bolt, the words on his hand, and the oval wound on his chest. 

After he finished his examination, he floated Potter back to the bed naked. It was best to bring him before the Dark Lord without clothes, as the cloth would likely be destroyed or damaged in what would occur later. 

After feeding a mild healing potion that would take effect after a short period of time, to the unconscious form, he fashioned himself a comfortable workstation where he could read and respond to his newest batch of post. 

He was there still, working, when several individuals Apparated to the house, arriving in the kitchen. The Dark Lord had arrived. Very few had the ability to Apparate inside the house. Turning back to his post, he followed their journey through the house, to the cellar. He had set multiple wards over the cellar door - obvious ones - and when the Dark Lord broke through them, he stood, tucking the mirror into his pocket and casting the viewing spell, and headed off to greet his Master with wand in hand. 

They met in the library. The Dark Lord, dressed in a regal outfit of voluminous black robes with silver trim, marched down the stairs, followed by Lucius, Bellatrix, Avery Senior, and Mulciber Senior. His most trusted associates. At least those still in town and not sent on missions to other parts of the world.

"My Lord." He moved to the side and bowed, deeply, waiting for the Dark Lord to sail past him before he rose and followed. Bellatrix sneered at him as she trotted after the Dark Lord into Potter's cage; the others ignored him. 

"Nasty little thing," said Bellatrix as she glared at Potter's nude form sprawled out across the sheets. 

"He's recovered?" The Dark Lord's eyes fixed solidly on Potter as if he were the only entity in the room.

"As much as I am able to ascertain, my Lord," Severus answered, carefully placing his words. "We will most likely need to limit our . . . festivities until his new skin is fully re-established."

"Wake him," commanded the Dark Lord.

Before Severus could finish retrieving the revival potion from his robes, Bellatrix had darted to the side of the bed and slapped the boy so hard, the crack rang out as loud as a thunderclap. Severus swept to her side and grabbed her wrist before she could deliver another blow. "Stop it. He'll not wake without my help."

She jerked her wrist away from him with an expression of horror as if he had got sick all over her dress rather than grabbed her hand. She shot her gaze to the Dark Lord, as if they were children at play, and she expected Severus to be punished. Sneaking a look at the Dark Lord, Severus saw only amusement on the alien face and knew he would have to act quickly to mitigate as many further attacks as possible. He gently examined Potter's face, as if he expected the blow to have done more damage than he knew it had. Potter's skin had set rather well, and he doubted a hit, even one as strong as that, could have caused much damage, but if Potter were to remain prisoner here, the more damaged he appeared, the less they would harm him. "His skin has not fully recovered," he said to the others. "Nothing should be done to his face."

"We'll eat dinner first," said the Dark Lord. "Severus, fix him for now."

"Yes, my Lord." Severus made a show of fetching a healing salve from his robes and carefully applying it to the light gouges Bellatrix's nails had left on Potter's face. Bellatrix hissed like a cat and puffed herself up, no doubt to complain and whinge, but she stopped when the Dark Lord waved her away with his hand. 

"Go upstairs," he ordered, and the four of them bowed and left. Once they were gone, the Dark Lord asked, "How many of his memories have been recovered?"

"Not enough, my Lord," Severus said. And then, because he knew it would be the only way he could possibly accomplish what Albus wanted, he said, "With my Lord's permission, I'd like to play a few mind games with him."

Without eyebrows or nose, the Dark Lord's facial features never changed much, and when he stood for several seconds, just staring at Severus, Severus couldn't quite tell if he was about to be _Crucio_ 'd or congratulated. After a moment, the Dark Lord asked, "What do you propose to do?"

Success! Severus didn't allow a single twitch of flesh to show his relief. "As you are aware, he is an orphan, raised by abusive relatives and stripped of his loved ones." He let a nasty smile curve on his face. "We've done quite well in eliminating his closest allies and friends. The cupboard by the bathroom will remind him of where he spent the early years of his life, and it was quite clever of you to install it, but he will be easy to control without pain if I convince him that I am an ally."

The Dark Lord snorted. "Do you intend to play the boy the way you played Dumbledore?"

Albus had always seen straight through him. He ignored the twinge of melancholy and laughed a low, dark laugh. "I admit, I miss the thrill. I do _not_ intend to grovel or pretend to be his servant, but I am curious as to how far a little fake kindness can go to earning the boy's compliance. Albus" He sneered the name, "always said that the boy's greatest strength was his ability to love." They both laughed over that for a moment before Severus continued, "I suspect that within that thick skull of his I can find facts too small to be properly gleaned through the art of Legilimency. There could be minor details concerning the habits of the Order members and other such triviality which would be time-consuming to force out, but could be inadvertently revealed in small talk. He's never been clever, and the Order trusted him. If nothing else, keeping him confused will make him less useful to the Order if we should ever decide to temporarily release him in order to set a trap." He doubted the Dark Lord would ever allow it, but he had to try to plant the idea.

His voice light, the Dark Lord said, "You never fail to amuse me, Severus. Your ideas are beyond those of anyone else."

Even though there was nothing Severus wanted more than to strike down the man before him, the praise still straightened his spine and warmed him.

_The Dark Lord smiled. "You are clever beyond your years. I will never forget what you've given to me."_

_No. Don't let it get to you._ Severus did his best to smile back. These moments could be worse than the Dark Lord's anger because, despite everything that had happened, some part of him still craved the fulfilment of the promise he had been given on that night when he took the Dark Mark. Some part of him still hoped, needed, for it to come true.

Thankfully, the Dark Lord turned away, saying, "Have him wake in an hour," before he left.

Severus took several breaths before he turned back to Potter and traced his fingers over the now-healed flesh on Potter's cheek. "Your hatred can't possibly match mine."

After carefully feeding Potter enough Alertness Potion to rouse him in an hour, he headed upstairs to the dinner table, where Yaxley, Avery, and Selwyn were now also waiting. He was seated fifth, behind Avery Senior, Lucius, Mulciber and Yaxley. How on earth had Lucius reached the second position so quickly after what had happened in the Ministry? How had he himself fallen to fifth, behind _Yaxley_? The Dark Lord loved to set them against each other, and the compliments were most likely delivered to off-set the table arrangement, but still, it was a slap in the face, especially to be put across from Bellatrix! 

She, delighted to see him slide down the rank, cocked an eyebrow at him in challenge. Avery, last, but happy to be included in the group, shot him a subtle look of sympathy. 

When the Dark Lord sat at the head of the table, no one spoke unless spoken to, unless they had something of importance to say. In theory, anyway. The Death Eaters strove to start conversations, especially those without much power, who were seated in small groups. Avery spoke first, soon after the salads appeared. 

"My Lord," he said. "You will be pleased to know arrests have risen threefold over this past month. Every day we catch more and more of these Mudbloods. It won't take long before the UK is cleansed."

"We should lock up the half-breeds as well," said Bellatrix, staring at Severus. "It's the only way to ensure that our blood remains unsullied."

She always attacked him in front of the Dark Lord and he ignored her, focusing on his food. 

Lucius said to the Dark Lord, "Perhaps we expand the mandatory register of all those with Muggle parentage to include the past . . . five generations. Those polluted will be sent to remedial schools before they are allowed to enter Hogwarts. The greater the contamination, the longer they will require proper education."

Despite his fervent beliefs, Lucius had never once disparaged Severus for his half-blood status. If the two of them had been alone, he would've whipped out his wand, but the Dark Lord did not permit anyone other than himself to hold a wand at the table. _Do you really want to make an enemy of me?_ He fixed his gaze on Lucius, who hadn't the guts to look back at him. 

"Perhaps," said the Dark Lord. "What do you think, Severus?"

He was still Headmaster, but he couldn't help but feel as though venom tinged the question. Keeping Potter's revelation locked away tightly in the back of his mind, he evenly said to Lucius, "You would propose to spend more money and time on those you deem less worthy?"

Lucius met his eyes, his gaze the coldest that Severus had ever received from him. "So you agree it is a waste of money?"

Everyone else at the table fell quiet, all eyes on the two of them. Severus wasn't sure how many of them knew about his status, but he suspected Bellatrix had spread it throughout the ranks. Calmly, he said, "If we are to separate them out, then we should perform blood tests to make sure that there aren't any bastards hidden amongst the supposedly pure of blood." He curved in his lips in a slight smile. "One hears rumours about some of the pure-blooded women, as I'm sure you know."

Bellatrix let out a cry of rage and hissed, "How dare you speak that way about my sister!"

He hadn't been referring to Lucius's wife, but he couldn't resist a dig at Bellatrix. "Why, Bellatrix, I said no such thing. I wonder why your thoughts fly straight to your sister. Have you something to tell us?"

She whipped out her wand and, in an instant, everyone had their wand in hand.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " The Dark Lord excelled at duelling, and none of them stood a chance of keeping their wands, all of which he caught in his hand. 

Severus surreptitiously lifted his right arm on the table, ready to cast with Albus's wand should the need arise. He'd mapped out the rooms and knew the placement of the furniture and likely exits. Across him, Bellatrix was breathing heavily, her nostrils flaring. 

"Shall we eat?" asked the Dark Lord, his voice thick with amusement. 

Severus had lost his appetite, and he had to concentrate to stop his fingers from shaking from all the adrenaline pumping through him, but he forced himself to take a bite of his food. Did they all stand against him? The Dark Lord had been uncharacteristically nice to him these past few days, but he assumed it was because of all that he'd accomplished. Selwyn hesitantly brought up a conversation on goblins, and what should be done with them, but Severus mostly ignored it. The way Dark Lord had forced Severus into the conversation wasn't enough of an insult that he could approach the powerful wizard and ask what he had done to offend. He would have to wait.

After desert, the Dark Lord asked, "Has Potter awakened?"

Severus glanced into the mirror, where he saw Potter shifting slightly. "He's reviving. He should be fully awake in a few minutes."

The Dark Lord held a wand out in his palm. "Lucius, bring him to the room with my throne."

"Yes, my Lord." Lucius fetched his wand, then swept away.

The Dark Lord stood. "I feel that a little entertainment is in order. Follow me." He led them to the throne room, where he turned and stood by the door, handing out wands as they passed through. Severus, not wanting to leave his back open to any of them, lingered behind, and when he passed through the doorway, the Dark Lord held onto the wand a few seconds more than necessary, his crimson eyes impenetrable. 

Severus once thought he knew where he stood. Swallowing hard, he slid his wand into place. 

Lazily, the Dark Lord conjured a set of manacles attached by a chain to the ceiling, and when Lucius pulled a semi-conscious Potter into the room, he chained the boy in place, pulling his hands high above his head.

Bellatrix, never able to keep quiet, asked, "May I play with your new toy, my Lord?"

"Later," said the Dark Lord with affection. "You had your fun last time. Severus." He nodded in his direction 

He had been given the reward of torturing Potter? He hadn't prepared for it. Why didn't the Dark Lord take the honour for himself? Was this supposed to make up for being seated fifth, or was the Dark Lord trying to play as many games of favouritism as he could? If this was to be a reward, then he needed to treat it like a show. He had to impress the others and the Dark Lord as well. Potter hadn't fully recovered enough for some forms of torture, and he didn't want to do anything too damaging, lest he be forced to waste his time healing the boy.

If the other Death Eaters intended to derogate him for his half-blood status, he might as well embrace his Muggle side. He pulled off his outer robe and, casting first the spells that protected the few items kept in hidden pockets, transformed the cloth into a whip. He had a vague idea how a whip should look and work, never having used one before, but magic guided him where his memory and intellect could not. He put a silent spell into the lash, and when it struck, it hit hard, with a satisfying crack that rang throughout the room. 

Potter's back tensed, his hands tightening on the chains, but he didn't scream, just as Severus had suspected He was too stubborn. 

Severus didn't care either way. He'd always wanted to torture James. 

_Arrogant bastard._ Crack.

Potter shuddered, but his skin remained unchanged. Shouldn't the skin turn red? Harder, perhaps. He cast a mild irritant into the whip as well.

_Suck-up._ Crack. 

Yes, a nice, wide strip of red. 

_You think you're special because you can catch a ball._ Crack.

Should it bleed? Maybe after a bit. It might look suspicious if Potter bled too early. He sneaked a glance at the Dark Lord, who was the only one focused on the display instead of conversation. The impassive face didn't reveal anything and Severus changed the spell so the lash would hit with a louder sound.

Crack!

There, satisfaction on the alien face. The others remained unimpressed, but of course they would pretend to be bored by the displays of others.

His goal accomplished, he focused on the bared back before him, determined to put on a good show and to take out some of his anger. He'd been storing the insults for _years_ and hadn't run out before the Dark Lord stood and waved him away from Potter's bloody torso.

The Dark Lord swept across the floor, his eyes locked on Potter's face. "You are beautiful in your suffering," he said, running his fingers over Potter's cheek. "What were you doing before I caught you?"

Severus had suspected that the Dark Lord would pretend to be in Potter's mind for the first time in front of the others, and focused on cleaning the blood out of his transfigured cloth. 

When the Dark Lord said, "They did have fun with you when you were first caught. I've never heard anyone scream like that before," Severus guessed the part he should play in front of the others and said, "My Lord, the boy appears to have no memory of his capture or our celebration afterwards. I suspect the head injury he sustained was responsible for that unfortunate outcome."

"No matter." The Dark Lord released Potter's chin and returned to his throne. "We will give him new memories. Begin, Severus."

Time to punish the son. He transferred the whip to his left hand, pretending that his right arm had grown tired, even though the spell provided most of the force. 

_For looking in my Pensieve._ He struck hard, harder than he intended and Potter released a sharp cry as a chunk of skin peeled away from his back. Too much damage and healing would be difficult, so Severus reduced the force of the next lashing, targeting lower where the skin hadn't sustained much damage yet.

_For being so bloody_ stupid _and useless._ Crack!

_For stealing from my potions storeroom._ Crack!

He hadn't got far when the Dark Lord motioned for him to stop. "You'll need to revive him."

Severus pretended to examine the injuries on Potter's back, pressing his fingers lightly against the damaged skin. "How many days do you wish me to spend healing him?"

"No more than two." 

Adopting an expression of disappointment, Severus said, "Then I should return him to his cage. He's still weak."

"He always was," said Avery, his eyes feasting on the blood.

The Dark Lord waved his hand and the chain and manacles disappeared, sending Potter tumbling to the floor. 

"Return him," said the Dark Lord, and Avery had his wand out and ready before Severus could finish restoring his robe. 

The Dark Lord cast a secrecy spell as he spoke to Bellatrix and Lucius. Severus strode toward the cellar to fix Potter, but the Dark Lord stopped him by calling, "Severus, return to me." He waved his hand and the others left.

"My Lord?" Severus obediently approached the dais. 

The Dark Lord swept forward and grabbed Severus's shoulders, sending irritating prickles all throughout his body. Although he tried not to react, he instinctively rebelled against the spell. The Dark Lord interrupted the counter-curse before it fully formed, his eyes never leaving Severus's as he pushed his way inside. 

"Show me everything that has happened since we last parted."

He'd been preparing for this, but his expectation of the Dark Lord's Legilimency was nothing like the reality. He'd trained with Albus again and again, but still, as he felt the powerful wizard plough through his mind, he had to put everything into protecting his hidden memories. 

The Dark Lord's fingers tightened and painful little shocks of electricity flowed through Severus's upper arms. Then, as abruptly as the attack had begun, it ended. His vision still swimming with his own memories, Severus staggered over to the wall to support himself while he caught his breath.

"The boy should not have been let out of your sight."

_Shit._ He knew it was coming, but nothing could prepare him for the Cruciatus. He popped one of the pain relievers in his arm and tried not to scream when the curse hit.

Pain. Sharp and blinding pain was all he knew and then it disappeared as swiftly as it had come. For an unguarded moment, he thought, 'That's it?' 

As the Dark Lord walked away, he ordered, "Have Potter ready for our next gathering three days from now." 

He was too caught up in catching his breath to acknowledge he’d heard the order. Really, that had been downright merciful.

When the Dark Lord had swept completely out of sight, and he no longer felt as though his heart would burst from his chest, he headed down to the cellar, only to find Avery on top of Potter.

Exasperated, he snapped, "Are you trying to get me in trouble? You're not supposed to hurt the boy!"

"I'm not hurting him," Avery muttered, his wand out and pointed at Potter's head. "I'm trying to revive him."

Severus stripped off his outer robe and dropped it over a chair. "You're sitting on his arse, which I just whipped. You're hurting him."

"Oh," said Avery, glancing down at the bloodied body beneath him. He carefully removed himself from Potter, and stood by the side of the bed. He'd tied the boy spread-eagle, and Severus removed the bonds with a few flicks of his wand as he sat on the bed.

Avery casually asked, "Have you been raping him?"

Severus openly displayed his disgust. "No, of course not. He is naked because the Dark Lord wishes it." He didn't have quite the healing salve he'd need to repair the damage to Potter's back. To Avery, he said, "Fetch the burn salve from the cabinet in the bathroom. _Alohamora_ will open it."

He'd never seen the consequences of a real whipping, but his magical creation had left large welts of rope-burnt flesh, as well as sharp, long lashes that broke apart the skin and sank into the flesh. He'd managed to prevent any of the cuts from sinking deep, except the two which resulted in the flayed patch of skin. Next time, he'd have to change the spell slightly. 

Avery returned just after Severus had finished applying an antiseptic. He passed the jar of salve to Severus and took a seat in one of the chairs before saying, "I was hoping to speak to you tonight to warn you that Lucius is no friend of yours, but I reckon you've already figured it out."

Severus doubted that Avery had intended to warn him; he'd probably seen the conflict and decided to capitalise on it, but there was no harm in pretending to believe such a claim. "What else has he done?"

"He wants to be Headmaster."

"He _what_?" Potter's back forgotten, Severus whirled to face Avery, hoping to see some sign of deceit. "He can't. He needs to serve as a professor for at least three years before he can take the post."

The relish crept through his thin veneer of concern as Avery shrugged and said, "He won't _really_ be Headmaster, but he's trying to set it up so that he's in charge of the lesson plans."

He would kill Lucius. Although he knew Avery wouldn't give a competent answer, he still asked, "What are his chances?" If nothing else, it would probably inspire Avery to keep him updated. 

Avery leant back in his chair. "Hard to say. The Dark Lord has yet to express his preference."

Avery didn't know shit. The Dark Lord, while he concerned himself with Hogwarts, deemed the administration of the school beneath him, and hadn't once stepped in. The Board of Governors had given Severus the title of Headmaster and appointed the Carrows. If Lucius was to take the position, then the Dark Lord would not interfere, unless he thought it would disrupt his plans. He hadn't stood up for Severus at dinner, which meant that he most likely would not respond to an appeal to stop Lucius. 

His thoughts racing, Severus slowly screwed the lid off the salve jar and dipped his fingers in the sticky mess. He stared at his fingers as they rubbed the potion into Potter's thighs. He needed to respond to Narcissa's message. He now needed her help. "Does the Dark Lord still hold regular meetings at Malfoy Manor?"

"He does. They aren't as selective as the ones here, of course. If you'd like, I can keep you updated on what occurs in our meetings." 

Never very intelligent, Avery could be used to pass along information without his knowledge. He'd reveal more than he intended to "That would be most beneficial."

"Of course," Avery leant forward, greed infusing his voice, "it will take time for me to send you letters or convince the Dark Lord to give me access to this place. If you were to help me with my latest task, I'm sure I'll be able to devote more time to helping you."

As long as Severus had known him, Avery had never once completed a task entirely on his own. When he couldn't force or convince his peers or those below his rank to do his work, he turned to his father for help. Luckily, because of his laziness, he was rarely given important or difficult tasks, and Severus should be able to provide a bit of help for a decent amount of information in return. Not wanting to appear eager, lest Avery give him a lot of work, he pretended to think it over. After a moment, he said in a reluctant tone, "I might be able to help. What tasks have you been given?"

As eager as a child on Christmas morning, Avery explained in detail. 

 

_Please review!_


	11. Chapter 11

"How is Harry?"

"Alive. I gave him _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_ to occupy his time." Settling back in his chair, Severus adjusted his trousers to a more comfortable position. With Avery's requests, Potter's healing, and his regular duties taking up his time, he hadn't been able to sit down and talk to Albus for a while. He had no idea how long he had before the Dark Lord arrived, but he intended to make the most of it. "You know what I caught your golden child doing, Albus? Masturbating. Again."

Albus merely chuckled. "What did you expect? He's still a teenager."

Severus snorted his disapproval and grabbed his glass, pouring a generous amount of Scotch inside. Not even a strong amount of alcohol could erase the mental image of Potter curled up, a sly smile on his face, and a hand wrapped around a surprisingly large cock. The ugly flush that had filled his face back then started to return, and he took a huge gulp of liquor, not wanting Albus to see how discomposed he had been. Potter would have to bring him serious harm before Albus stopped finding the prat's behaviour charming. 

Waving a dismissive hand, Albus asked, "Come now, Severus, is that so shocking? Next you'll be complaining to me about how he picks his nose and doesn't wash his hands after using the loo."

Severus stared at the portrait, horrified. " _What?_ "

Albus slowly shook his head, amusement dancing around his lips. "Calm yourself, Severus. They were examples based on how most teenaged boys act, even legally adult ones. What else can he do to entertain himself? He's been here nearly two weeks and he spends most of that time alone."

"He's being held captive by his worst enemy - a man who killed his parents and has tried to kill him. His guard is a man responsible for the deaths of many of his loved ones. He has no idea how his allies are faring or if he will ever see them again, yet he feels the need to have it off. Multiple times." He took another large sip and added, "I think he does it to annoy me."

Albus scoffed. "You are paranoid. I doubt he has any idea he's constantly monitored."

He hated to admit that he hadn't thought of that. Potter was rather thick and particularly non-paranoid. To change the subject, he said, "Lucius wants to divide the duties of the Headmaster so that he has power over the Hogwarts students. I should still have control of the house-elves and the wards, but I can't be certain of that."

His brow darkening, Albus slowly shook his head. "That explains why Kreacher took Ginevra to join Hermione and Ron. I'll do my best to stop Lucius, but I fear that I and the other Headmasters will be unable to do more than protect the students most in danger."

"The house-elves have been discreet?"

"Perfectly." Albus stroked his beard and Severus watched silently, waiting for him to reveal his thoughts. After a bit, he said, "With Kreacher still unable to find the key, I feel we should move forward with our attempt on Gringotts."

"What needs to be done that hasn't been done already?"

Albus laced his fingers together and leant forward towards the portrait frame. "You may recall that a goblin named Griphook has been travelling with Hermione and Ron. I had Kreacher bring him to my portrait-"

"Was that wise?" It seemed exceedingly risky. The fewer interactions they all had with each other, the harder it would be to track down everyone involved. "I told the Dark Lord that Kreacher had been killed."

"Unless you revealed yourself whilst obtaining my portrait, I don't believe it will be a problem. To most goblins, all house-elves look similar. Kreacher never once mentioned his name."

He didn't think he had revealed himself, but time would uncover the truth. 

"Anyway, I asked him if he had access to the Headquarters of the Goblin Society, or knew who did." 

Severus paused, his glass stopping midair. "Goblin Society?"

"Yes, my dear friend Hadrian Mortimer, who's housed in both the Ministry and Gringotts, informed me of a building off of Diagon Alley that only the most well-connected goblins may enter. The most complete plans of Gringotts should reside there. Griphook said that he knew several goblins who had regular access and could obtain hair samples for Polyjuice. Would Hermione and Ron be able to use Polyjuice to transform into these goblins and search the Headquarters?"

"Why don't you have them try to Polyjuice into Griphook?"

"Should they be faced with a situation akin to Miss Granger’s mishap with the cat hair, they could be stuck in that form for quite a while and unable to use Polyjuice again. I don't want to risk it."

"So try with someone less valuable."

Sighing heavily, Albus said, "It will be difficult for them to obtain Polyjuice, and I'd like to limit the number of those involved. Should Voldemort discover someone attempting to Polyjuice into goblins...."

True enough. Severus set his drink to the side and, casting wards over the door, hurried down to the library to fetch his book on magical creature morphology. Polyjuice typically didn't transform individuals entirely into other species, but goblins might be human enough that it could work. He returned to the room, reading as he walked. As soon as he had sealed himself inside again, he said, "I might need to brew a tailored potion. I assume a limited number of samples will be required?"

"Most likely. Will it take a month?"

Goblins shared around 99% of their DNA with humans. Of course, they could share 100% of their DNA and it wouldn't matter if he didn't take into account all the other factors that determined physiology. "It will take . . . at least a week. Just for research. Less if I manage to stumble on the right process. I'd need..." Fresh fluxweed scruples. Lacewing flies wouldn't work. Perhaps acteon beetle antennae? "Several ingredients I need to order. Most of all, I'd need a way to conceal my work on this from the Dark Lord. If it is possible, it will be difficult and time-consuming."

Albus sighed. "I was afraid of that."

It was their best chance and he needed to give it his all. The sooner they found and destroyed all the Horcruxes, the sooner this would all end. "I'll try it. Have Griphook obtain at least one hair sample, two if possible. Are there any other possibilities that could help us find a way into Gringotts?" Albus was a brilliant man, but it was possible that he was missing something.

"Hadrian also said that Death Eaters occasionally patrol the entrance hall, although they aren't allowed in the vaults." 

He had to make use of every bit of information that he could. "Find out who patrols and when. Even better, get hair samples from all Death Eaters known to patrol the bank."

"We've thought of that," said Albus, "but it's too risky to position ourselves outside the bank, and their names have yet to be spoken inside. It was my impression that no more than six young men patrol, but I can't be certain until Hadrian has given me more information. Have you seen Nagini yet?"

"No sign of her," Severus said, wishing he had any lead on that issue. "I can't ask about her without raising suspicion. I suspect he doesn't want her near Potter. I may not see her until after Potter is dead." He sighed and drank from his glass. As beneficial as it would be for Potter to kept alive until all the other Horcruxes were destroyed, such an opportunity seemed less and less likely with each passing day.

"The Horcruxes may be destroyed in any order," Albus reminded him. "We only have to be certain that we've found and destroyed them all before targeting him."

Potter would probably die without seeing the end of it all, but maybe that was for the better. If he died first and it all went to hell, he'd never have to live with the failure. The soft chime of his mantle clock reminded him that the Dark Lord would arrive soon. He strode to the door and, opening it, sent the book back down to the library. When he returned to Albus's portrait, he said, "Perhaps we should bring some competent adults in on the mission."

Firmly but gently, Albus said, "I feel it best to restrict the number of individuals who know about the Horcruxes. The last thing we need is for more Tom Riddles to make themselves nearly immortal."

"But sharing information about Horcruxes will make them easier to find and hunt in the future." He noticed Albus's lips press thin and added, "Don't try to tell me there won't be any more attempts. If the Dark Lord could find this information, then anyone else could. If I can discover what he's done with only part of the information, then so could anyone else. Not to mention, you've told _Potter_. The boy with a mind like sieve."

"Voldemort will not let him share that information now. Leave it be, Severus."

Severus couldn't. Not when so much was at stake. "The withholding of information allows powerful wizards to grow unchecked, and none seek unrestrained power as much as those wishing ill. All that we have ever done is react to his actions. A more proactive approach could have prevented this."

"Severus, please. Let's focus on what can be done now. Can you limit what will happen tonight?" 

Severus knew from experience that Albus wouldn't let the conversation continue now. "I'll do my best, but I only have so many options. If the Dark Lord regards him to be fully healed, then he may allow them to do anything to him, provided that Potter can recover from it."

Someone entered through the wards of the house and he stood. "They've arrived. I'll speak to you later." Shoving Albus's portrait in his robes, he removed the wards around his room and retreated to his bathroom, where he made a half-hearted attempt at combing his hair and preparing for dinner while he waited for whoever had arrived to leave the kitchen. When he'd finished his ablutions and no one had emerged, he left his room and strode towards the sounds of someone tinkering about in the kitchen.

He arrived at the door to find Narcissa Malfoy unpacking a large container that took up nearly half of the table. 

"Oh, Severus," she said as a few swishes of her wand had a dinner table rising up out of the box and galloping towards the dining room. "I hope I did not disturb you. As my husband is unavailable to attend tonight, and the Dark Lord wished for everything to be in place before his arrival, I came early to set up."

"We have a table and chairs already set up." He shifted to the side as a row of wooden chairs danced past him. 

"But with my china?" she asked, a critical eyebrow arched. "If the furniture is anything like this-" She dismissed the room with her hand. "-it's a good thing I brought the extras. A dinner with the Dark Lord is not a privilege granted often."

Where was the Dark Lord staying if not at Malfoy Manor? What did the Dark Lord's new location mean? Narcissa seemed pleased, but Severus had never learnt to read her. 

Who knew how long they had together before the others arrived? Without setting up wards or alerting her, he casually said, "I received your letter."

She had been floating the silverware over to the counter and her wand dipped slightly, her eyebrows drawing in close together. Her pale eyes searched his. "I wasn't sure if you had received it. You didn't answer."

He had good reason to argue that he simply had been unable to answer it. Instead, he said, "I saw no rush to reply as I understand the situation has already been handled."

Her shoulders squared as she turned back to her box, floating chafing dishes towards a conjured table against the cabinets. "You surprise me, Severus," she said. "You know more about my house than I do myself."

He didn't believe that for one second. "Your husband will undoubtedly secure his son a proper education with the reforms he is currently seeking at Hogwarts."

"My husband and I are not in concord on every opinion," she said, her eyes on her wand work.

Everything had been done entirely behind Lucius's back or had been painted to appear that way. He needed to figure out which. He let his voice grow cold and said, "Then speak to him about your disagreements. You are his wife. Perhaps you should honour and obey him as is your duty."

An alarming flush brightened her cheeks and she clutched her wand tightly as she turned to face him and hissed, "Do not dictate to me how I should manage my affairs!"

He crossed his arms and leant against the doorframe. How far to push her? He needed to know where she stood if he was to have any sort of alliance while her husband actively plotted against him. "You are either incredibly stupid or naive. Which is it?"

She schooled her facial features to calm and asked, "Why can't it be something else?"

He pushed away from the doorframe and strode into the room. "You know that your husband and I are . . . in disagreement. Any agreement between us endangers your husband whilst this animosity continues."

"You think I can't handle myself?" She arched an eyebrow at him, her nose rising.

He moved to the counter behind her, forcing her to turn around to face him. "I think you have no idea the extent of the games those of us who are in his most trusted circle play."

"I am a Black," she said.

"Don't," he snapped. "I don't care about your blood status or your family line. I can kill a Pureblood just as easily as a Muggle should I find reason. Do you really think me merely half as powerful or conniving as your husband?"

She did not. She stared at him, breathing harshly, her lips pinched thin.

He continued, "I have various . . . means at my disposal. I am not as confined as I appear to be." Rather, he was more confined, but he'd done his best to dispel that belief. 

As if shaking off sleepiness, she roused herself and said, "If you were plotting to hurt my husband, you wouldn't tell me."

He gave a low chuckle. "I wouldn't?"

"The Dark Lord-"

"Prohibits me from killing or incapacitating him, just as Lucius may not kill or incapacitate me. Much exists outside those prohibitions." The Dark Lord would probably enjoy it if Severus launched an attack on Lucius. He’d always tried to set them against each other, probably because he couldn’t stand two powerful men to be so aligned with each other.

She blinked and looked away and he suspected the best revenge on either of them would be to have one kill the other. Then again, perhaps she was better at this game than he thought. He waited patiently, staring at her to try to get under her layers. 

She focused on her work for a moment, then turned to face him and firmly said, "What you and I will arrange will have nothing to do with my husband."

Interesting. She thought she had enough to offer to force a deal. He gave her a look of scorn and asked, "Why would I arrange to have anything to do with you?"

Tilting up her chin, her face firm, she responded, "We all need allies and your position has not improved since you've been stationed here."

Was it that well-known, had she learnt about it from her husband, or was she fishing? He said nothing.

"As you can see, the Dark Lord has granted me the privilege of visiting you without an escort." She floated the box to the corner of the room and turned to her unpacked supplies, speaking softly but firmly as she busied herself arranging the chafing dishes on the table. "It is true that I do not have the extensive connections that my husband has, but many of those have been lost to you now, and I have the ability to renew some of your former associations." 

He did need allies, but he wasn't about to reveal his weakness to her. "If I am to save your son, then I want payment - your husband." Best to start high and negotiate down.

She turned to him and met his gaze with cool fire in her own. "If you do protect my son, then my husband will be in your debt."

Somehow, he managed to keep the calm haughtiness on his face and not reveal even a flicker of surprise. She couldn't be serious, could she? 

She hadn't outright said that he could have his revenge on Lucius, but she'd certainly implied that she’d find a way to end his animosity with her husband would cease. Perhaps she would even let him torture Lucius. She may not have taken the Mark, but she was of the Black House and had been surrounded by Death Eaters all her life. She knew that Severus demanded a high price and she was, on the surface, still willing to at least partially sacrifice her husband to save her son. Of course, it was all phrased in such a way as to make her appear to be the perfect wife, and this could all be a trap, but Severus's instincts told him otherwise. Either way, he'd be a fool not to take advantage. Carefully he said, "And you must prove to me that you can be of use."

She gave a slight nod and turned her attention back to the food. "I'll not take anything into my home. I'll deliver post, bring packages, and give you information, but that will be the extent of my involvement."

It was more than reasonable, but he still had to push for more. "How am I to aid your son if I can't interact with him?"

"You'll suggest books, epuipment, other items which I will purchase on my own. Over time you’ll gain increased access to him, but never once will you gain access to the Manor."

He wouldn't gain it now, but there was a chance he would later. It didn't matter anyway, he wouldn't press for it. He'd rely on her to bring him information and potions ingredients. She and Lucius had to know that nothing could be done against him or Potter through potions ingredients, as he wouldn't be foolish enough to use potions ingredients they provided in his own private stores. If they were stupid enough to try to tamper with his potions, the Dark Lord would not have mercy. "For now, I'll give you book titles and names of tutors in exchange for information and potions ingredients. Have you access to a supplier outside the Apothecary in Diagon Alley?"

As expected, she shook her head. "I don't."

"I'll give you a few names. First, tell me what you know about what Avery Senior and Mulciber Senior have done lately."

She wove a convincing tale of different tasks assigned to several high-ranking Death Eaters. None of the information sounded like anything that ought to remain hidden, and most of it matched what he had pulled from other sources. He expected that she wouldn't lie at first, and never about anything so widely known among the Dark Lord’s followers, but he couldn't be certain. 

She had just put the finishing touches in place in the dining room when the Dark Lord arrived with Avery Senior, Mulciber, and Bellatrix, and led them to the sitting room. Bellatrix, still gloating over her recent discovery of an Order hideaway (never mind that everyone inside the building had escaped), sneered at him as she entered. 

Avery slipped him a note as they passed between the rooms, most likely giving him more information on Lucius. He accepted it with discreet gratitude and fetched liquor from the large house supply contained in one of the cabinets in the sitting room. Whoever had lived here before him had certainly enjoyed drinking, and he'd made only a minor dent in the top shelf. 

Dinner was a boring affair where he found himself seated third, behind Avery Sr and Mulciber, then excluded from a private conversation with the Dark Lord's new top two while he was sent to fetch Potter. 

Fortunately, after he had turned Potter over to Bellatrix, the Dark Lord conjured a chair for him beside his throne. 

When Severus sat down, the Dark Lord asked, "How has your research been going?"

Perfect. "Very well, my Lord." Things were looking good, but he needed to play this right. "I've devised two possible containers for the boy's soul. The first involves a duplicate body. Even if we should be unable to remove his soul, you could possess his other body, as it won't have a soul." It also meant that the Dark Lord could grow new bodies for himself, should he so desire it. 

The Dark Lord blinked, a surprisingly human reaction. "That's possible?"

"In theory," he admitted. "It's never been done as far as I know. Individual parts have been recreated, but not an entire body. Not yet anyway." 

"And the second option?" 

He hadn't the time to think of anything better, but he needed an excuse to explain the Polyjuice, so he said, "I would also like to experiment with Polyjuice and see if I can't devise a method to increase the length of time it lasts, thus creating a container to house Potter’s soul within any other human."

His red eyes narrowing slightly, the Dark Lord said, "You told me it wouldn't work."

Years ago, when the Dark Lord had first courted Severus for the Death Eaters, they'd discussed a few potions together. All this time, the Dark Lord had never once referenced those conversations, and Severus had assumed he'd forgotten. Not surprisingly, he hadn't forgotten his promises; he just didn't care to honour them. "A student of mine once took Polyjuice that contained a cat hair rather than a human hair. Whilst her companions, who had ingested regular versions of the potion, lost their disguises after an hour, it required work and time to reverse the effects of hers. I suspect that if we were to tweak Polyjuice and give it to a nonhuman animal, it may be possible to turn said animal into Potter's body for an extended period of time. Of course, it would have no soul and therefore should be easy to possess." Severus suspected animals had souls, but the Dark Lord had always firmly divided humans from non-humans, in addition to dividing humans from Muggles.

The Dark Lord gave a wry smile. "Focus on growing a body for me." He waved Severus away and motioned for Mulciber to approach him.

Merlin's balls, he'd fucked it up. What did that smile mean? Did the Dark Lord think he had lied earlier? Shit, shit, shit. 

When the Dark Lord avoided him the rest of the night other than to give him orders, he knew that he'd failed. They'd have to get the Cup some other way.

 

 

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	12. Chapter 12

Although he'd been fed regular doses since he'd been captured, sleeping potions still worked wonderfully on Potter. Severus waited in the library for another three minutes before he entered the cell and wrapped the boy in one of his crimson sheets. He'd already prepared the wards and, with his wand out and ready, he floated Potter to the potions lab. 

Inside the lab, he unwrapped Potter before levitating him to rest on one of the preparation tables. Potter had recovered enough from the torture that all of his flesh was his own, and only his eyes remained altered. If he’d had more time, Severus would have changed them back, but as it was, calming Potter's frazzled nerves in the after-Cruciatus bath had taken more time than he’d anticipated, and he was behind schedule. Growing a body would not be simple and the Dark Lord would expect results soon.

He'd already collected nail, hair, and skin samples, but now he to gently peeled back bits of Potter's skin, and took tiny samples of the organs, muscles and bones. He gathered a bit of everything but the brain, dabbing healing potions over the small wounds he made and placing the delicate tissue in specially prepared vials full of stabilisation potions. Growing the organic bits would be a challenge and would have to come later.

Once he'd collected everything necessary and repaired the flesh, he pulled the crimson sheet back over Potter and closed his eyes. The Dark Lord didn't need to see this part. Earlier, he'd thumbed through his book of household spells, seemingly looking for ones designed to make chores simpler. He'd found two that would probably suit his purposes well, although there was no way to know for certain until he tried. 

First, to make the area clean. He removed the sheet and placed his hand on Potter's abdomen, his fingers overlaying the thick, coarse curls of black that crept up to Potter's navel. The skin was warm, nearly feverishly so. In his mind, he pictured the lower colon and rectum and cast, " _Aveho sordem_!" followed by " _Oleum_!" He'd picked a spell designed to clean dirt and foreign particles out of soft substances as well as one that oiled door hinges and other household equipment He saw no reason why they wouldn't work within the body, especially since he didn't intend to cast them more than once. 

Although he'd already cast a cleansing spell, he still cast a protection spell over his fingers. He couldn't wear gloves, as he needed the sensitivity of his fingers, but soap wouldn't be enough to clean him afterwards should there be contamination. With conjured ropes he spread and tied Potter's knees to his upper arms. Quickly but carefully, he picked up Potter's soft penis and inserted it into the flask, ignoring the small amount of queasiness in his stomach. What he was doing _was_ a violation; Albus would be furious, but he still had to do it. If, somehow, he survived in a world after Potter’s death, he needed _something_ left of her. 

Although he'd informed the Dark Lord that Potter might feel pain as part of what he intended to do today, tearing the delicate flesh would be hard to explain. He cast _Oleum_ again on his fingers before he pressed his index finger firmly against Potter's anus and gently pushed. At first the flesh resisted him, pushing back, but the muscle-relaxing potion made things easier, and he pressed on and then, with a slight twist, he was in, Potter's body gripping him in a tight heat, the flesh pounding with the strong heartbeat. He added a second finger, and slipped them both deeper, feeling up and along the fleshy wall for the spot that he'd heard about but never felt before. There. Was that it? Something small and firm.

" _Sacrium_!" At the electric charge, white splattered over the inside of the vial and Severus withdrew his oily fingers, casting cleaning spells on himself and Potter's arse before he removed the vial and corked it. There. Now she wouldn't be completely gone even after Potter was. He washed his hands in the sink.

He untied Potter's legs and straightened him out on the table before covering him with the sheet. Repositioning himself in the exact pose he had held before he closed his eyes, he closed them again, and when he opened them, it was while he was casting " _Mobilicorpus_!" Any small changes of position of Potter's body parts could be blamed on the spell. It was a simple matter to float the boy back to his cell and replace him on the bed. He'd been injured by Bellatrix, and, although the Cruciatus wouldn't explain the tiny scars, they would heal before Potter woke, and the analgesics already in the boy's system should help prevent pain from developing - even in the areas where Severus wasn't supposed to have gone. 

Still, he watched Potter through the mirror as the boy woke and ate his breakfast. He turned back to his potion and, when he glanced up while adding Jerusalem beetle wings to his muscle-growth potion and saw Potter standing amongst the shattered remains of something – the bowl that had contained the strawberries perhaps? - he cursed under his breath, cut the flames under his potion, and ran down to the cellar. What an idiot. Only Potter could be stupid enough to hurt himself on a bowl. 

As soon as he opened the library door, he yelled, "Stupid boy! Get on the bed, Potter!" 

Potter glared at him, a sign that the calming potions were starting to wear off. He'd have to be given more with his next meal.   
After summoning the ceramic shards, Severus hissed, "Be careful, you fool," before marching off. 

Really, he couldn't imagine anything worse than caring for Potter. It was as if the boy knew that he needed to die. 

He headed to the kitchen. He needed to cook the next two meals anyway. " _Reparo_!" He floated the bowl straight to its shelf as he pulled his favourite cookbook out of its drawer. What to make? It might be easier to manipulate the boy if he could control his perception of time. Make him think that the days were passing more quickly or slowly than they were. More quickly and he might panic at the loss of time, making him easier to control, as he would be more desperate for any sort of alliance in order to escape. Even though it was afternoon, Severus decided to make a breakfast meal to convince Potter it was morning. He had to stagger the meals so as not to arouse any suspicion about missing time anyway. Was Potter even clever enough to suspect such a thing?

Better to overestimate him than to underestimate him, although Severus didn't think it was possible to underestimate him.

He had just put the finishing touches to the first meal and was pouring orange juice when someone appeared in his potions lab. Shoving everything in the stasis boxes, he headed over, warding and sealing the house behind him.

Benjamin Young stood on the landing, glancing around the lab. Young, a half-blood and a Hufflepuff, had been a bright student. Since the boy had been quiet and average in every respect at Hogwarts, Severus had been surprised to see him included in a gathering at Malfoy Manor the year before. That he'd risen far enough to be allowed to travel here unescorted showed that he had more intelligence than his grades at Hogwarts had let on. 

"Professor Snape," he said, a small smile gracing his lips as he gave a slight bow. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Ben Young."

Severus swept down the stairs, giving the boy a critical look. He couldn't have been more than nineteen. How long ago had Severus had him in his class? High cheekbones and almond eyes made him look younger, sixteen at the most, especially with the acne that marred his otherwise handsome face. 

"A Hufflepuff," he observed, putting a bit of derision in the word. 

If Young was offended, he didn't show it. "Yes," he said, smiling a bit wider as he walked down the steps into the lab. "Half-blood too. I've brought your new potions." He held up a box as long and thick as his forearm. As he stepped forward to hand it over, he asked, "Do you need an assistant?"

He'd been offered them before and always turned them down. An assistant was a likely spy and he hated most Death Eaters as they tended to be petty and insipid. Still, Young had to be motivated by something beyond the typical driving factors for most Death Eaters or he, a half-blood and a Hufflepuff, would never have joined. With his low-ranking and polluted blood, few would be willing to align with him. For many, it would be precisely the reason to avoid him, but Severus usually courted allies of this type.

Severus brushed past Young, taking the box as he walked. "I've no need for an assistant," he said. "Besides, do you _really_ think the Dark Lord will allow you regular access to my lab?"

"I can't help with brewing," acknowledged Young as he frowned slightly. "But I've got information and I can help you fetch potion supplies."

Severus snorted. "The Dark Lord provides me with every ingredient I could desire." It was hardly true, but he doubted Young could help him in that department. "I find it very difficult to believe that you have access to information that I do not. Tell me, what do you know of the recent developments within the Ministry and abroad?"

Young’s frown deepened, his mouth opening slightly as he stared at the floor of the potions lab. "Uh . . . I know that they just passed a new law that requires all witches and wizards to carry an ID card that states their blood status." 

Narcissa's latest post had stated that Jugson had managed to strong-arm the head of the wizarding society in France into supporting the Dark Lord's reign, that Sethlans Mulciber was to remain in the Americas longer than originally expected, and that the Board was considering eliminating Muggle Studies completely. The information about the ID cards, if true, would be posted in the _Prophet_ , which arrived nearly daily with his other, monitored post.

No wonder the kid needed allies; he was useless. Severus cast detection spells before he opened the box and carefully removed the smaller containers inside. "I'd like the latest copy of _Potions Quarterly._ "

"Yes, sir!" Young gave a little half bow, half bob, tripping over his shoes as he turned to go.

A bit louder, Severus added, "Also, go through the past issues published in the last five years and write down the name of every single Potions Master who is cited at least three times." It was busy work, but it could be fruitful later. 

"Anything else?" Young leant forward, gazing at Severus with an eager hunger.

Before, Severus had often given them impossible tasks at first, just to see how far they would go to try to accomplish them, but he doubted the boy could give him much, so he said, "That will be all."

Young hurried up the steps, leaving as soon as he reached the landing. How long would he last? A week? A month? 

Severus pulled out the box labelled, " _Oroxylum indicum_." Finally. With the base on hand, he could begin to prepare the potions necessary to grow the pieces of Potter into a new body. Slowly, he unwove the protection spells around the palm-sized box and slid back the wooden lid. 

Whoever had collected the flowers had cut them too close to the bud. They were useless. _This_ was what happened when he wasn't allowed to collect potions ingredients himself. 

He grabbed a quill and two sheets of parchment from his desk in the corner of the lab and wrote a scathing note to his apothecary. After that, he wrote a slightly less scathing note to the Dark Lord, complaining about the apothecary and explaining why his brewing schedule would face a setback.

The delay, which would never have occurred before, annoyed him so much that he knew he wouldn't be able to brew properly. After sorting and shelving the rest of the ingredients, he returned to the house to finish preparing lunch and serve Potter 'breakfast'. It had been a while since he'd taken the boy for a bath, which meant that he should probably do that soon, if for no other reason than to examine his movements and see if that shakiness still remained in his limbs.

Sighing to himself over the utter ridiculousness of his new life, Severus marched to the kitchen, slapped together a basic lunch, then headed down to the cellar.

Potter was sleeping, the heavy dose of potions undoubtedly contributing to the fact that he tended to sleep for fourteen to sixteen hours each day. Stepping through the bars, Severus marched over to the table, loudly tapping it with his wand as he Summoned the meal from the boxes upstairs.

Potter twisted his neck to give a glare. "I was having a good dream."

Thankfully, he'd remembered to add calming potions to this meal, and that knowledge kept him from needing to give a retort. "Get up, Potter. After you’ve eaten, you are getting a bath." He didn't say "you will bathe yourself" because, knowing the little shit, Potter would probably do everything in his power to resist. If Potter getting a bath meant that Severus would have to chain him to the tub and hose him down with soaped water, then it would happen that way. He turned on his heel and, shutting the bars behind him, checked to be certain that he'd returned fresh towels to the bathroom.

When he returned, Potter had buried his face in his food, noisily sucking sauce off his fingers.

_"Why don't you give him good food?" suggested Albus, his eyes following the path of Severus's hands over Potter's legs._

_Severus glanced at the portrait, which he'd set up on the other side of the tub. "Spoil him with sweets? That's a rather banal plan, even for you."_

_Albus's grin filled his face. "Give it a try."_

Ugh, Albus was right. Teenaged boys _were_ disgusting. How could a teenaged girl be attracted to such an awkward, gangly creature that reminded him of a cross between a chimp and a pig? When he couldn't stand watching the greedy display for much longer, he snapped, "Hurry up, Potter. I have things to do."

A flash of anger flew across Potter's face, but it left almost as quickly as it had appeared. The calming potions worked quickly. Without any other display of rebellion, Potter stood and padded to the bathroom, his limbs moving with far more decisiveness than they'd ever displayed before. He fumbled with his clothes inside the bathroom, but he stepped nearly gracefully into the tub, no halting jerks or near slips. Had all the damage finally been healed? It seemed a bit too much to hope for. In Severus's experience, no one ever recovered _that_ well from such extensive damage.

If he could not acquire a proper sample of _Oroxylum indicum_ , he'd need to find something else for the base. Another member of the family _Bignoniaceae_?

Potter climbed out of the tub, pulling the towel firmly around his waist. He dressed whilst Severus debated between _Oroxylum indicum_ and _Uncaria tomentosa_. _Uncaria tomentosa_ was the more traditional base, but its anti-inflammatory properties could prove to be problematic if-

Potter pitched forward, curling in on himself as he gave a sharp cry. "Ow!"

And he'd seemed so healed! Severus swooped forward. "What's wrong?"

Groaning, Potter said, "My stomach."

His stomach? What could be wrong with his stomach? Was something in the food interacting with the calming potions? He shifted forward. "Let me look."

Bam! Potter slammed into Severus, sending his head straight into the wall. Instinctively, he grabbed onto the nearest object - Potter, and pulled him with him as he fell. As pain radiated from his skull, a flash of white caught his eye and a foot slammed into his ribs. He was under attack. Potter had a weapon. The white slashed again and he moved his sleeve to catch it, managing to get out a " _Petrificus Totalus!_ "

How could he have been so _stupid_? He shoved Potter's frozen body to the floor and stood, checking himself for any injuries that had been missed in the rush of the moment. A cut through the bottom of his trousers, a rip in his sleeve, but nothing more.

Potter's frozen hand was clutching a shard of ceramic and a weight settled in Severus's stomach. He hadn't checked the bowl to be certain it was intact before he'd sent it away. This punishment would be worse than the last. He had no moment to go back to; this escape attempt would have to stay.

He stared down at Potter, at the frozen face etched with hate. If he were allowed, he would have stomped his boot into that face. Instead, he ignored his pounding heart, cast _Mobilicorpus_ , and floated Potter back to his cell.

_"Surely he's not more difficult than the Dark Lord."_

_"No, Albus, he's worse."_

And to think that he had to put up with this for at least another month! He would kill himself, no, kill Potter before the end of next week!

_Calm. You can deal with this. You can tell the Dark Lord that you suspected he would attempt to escape, but wanted to see how he would do it._ As if that would work. Bloody hell. He'd need to prepare the bath for himself.

As evenly as he could, he said, "I have been very reasonable with you so far, Potter. Yet, you continue to challenge my authority and engage in behaviour that suggests to me that you are wilfully being stupid." He floated him onto the bed and wrested the shard from the immobile fingers. Tucking the shard into his robes, he adjusted the chains to tie Potter to the bedposts, making certain the boy was confined before he released the body bind.

Potter's thrashing prompted the realisation that he hadn't made certain that Potter only had one weapon. Severus grabbed the kicking ankles, pressing them together as he stripped Potter of his bottoms. Potter yelled his outrage, but Severus ignored him, calmly folding up the tracksuit trousers. "Jugson was given the reward of torturing you at the next visit, but I will request to give you the lash again and this time, what Bellatrix did to you will seem merciful." He left before Potter could give his retort, marching to the kitchen, where he wrote a letter to the Dark Lord, explaining what had happened. As his bloody owl was nowhere to be found, he had to slip the letter into his robe, to be given to the next Death Eater who arrived. They'd established a six am and nine pm arrival schedule, although visitors often appeared outside of those hours.

He took out his anger on the kitchen, furiously scrubbing it clean until he felt he could get away with retiring to his bedroom for a bit. Inside, he threw up the wards, dropped into his desk chair and closed his eyes. Opening his eyes, he pulled out Albus's portrait and poured himself a whisky, neat.

Presumably he was busy elsewhere, and so it took Albus several minutes to show up and, by then, Severus had finished his first drink.

"He did it again!" he snapped as he refilled his glass.

Albus frowned. "...He masturbated?"

"No, Albus! He tried to escape!"

Soothingly, Albus said, "Explain what happened."

How could he have been so dumb? "I was foolish enough to give him a ceramic bowl. He shattered it, feigned an injury, then attacked me with a shard."

"I see," said Albus, folding his hands in his lap. "You must admit, that was rather clever."

For a moment, Severus could only stare at Albus, the heat rising in his throat so intense, he thought he might put his fist through the portrait, loyalties be damned.

Albus seemed to sense the danger he was in, for he quickly added, "I know this is difficult for you, Severus, but you mustn't treat him as though he is doing these things as a way to destroy you. If he knew what you've done for him-"

Severus didn't want to hear it. "He blames me for the death of his parents."

"If he knew about Lily-"

"He'd hate me all the more." Severus stared at the liquid in his glass. "He'd have good reason to."

"He'd forgive you."

Not this bullshit again. Severus didn't believe it for a second. He'd seen how Potter looked at him when not under the influence of the calming potions. If Potter were given the chance to bury a knife in Severus's heart, he'd take it. Just as well. Severus knew he deserved it.

"Severus . . ." said Albus soothingly, as though he were a child having a tantrum, "I know I've asked a lot of you. I know this is difficult for you. Please remember that he's just a child, and you've played your part as his enemy convincingly. Has he responded to any of your recent attempts?"

"The calming potions work." Albus was right; he did let Potter get in under his skin more than he should. "He likes the food if his slovenly eating habits are anything to go by. He reads the book and it keeps him relatively quiet, but the moment I ease up on the calming potions, he attacks me. As well he should. He has reason to hate me; I know that. I simply don't have the patience or time to deal with his anger. The potions work and make him manageable."

Albus frowned, the number of lines in his forehead doubling. "They can't be good for him."

"He's shown no complications or interactions." Actually, he couldn't be sure of that. That mild shakiness still could be the result of the calming potions, as Potter’s movements had been steadier when the potions didn't course through his system.

"Tell him about Lily."

Severus snorted into his drink. "So he can tell the Dark Lord?"

"Voldemort wouldn’t believe it." Albus smiled slightly. "You’ve played your part convincingly to him and, by your own admissions, he’s a much more clever, more sceptical wizard than Harry. If you can convince Voldemort, you can convince Harry."

Severus arched an eyebrow at Albus. "I have good reason to work to convince the Dark Lord. I do not have good reason to work to convince Potter." Albus opened his mouth to interrupt, but Severus didn’t allow him. "It is true he will be easier to manage should I convince him, but calming potions work well enough, and in many ways, I suspect he will be harder to convince, simply because he lacks any form of reason and has the brains of a troll." 

Sighing, Albus sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the wood. "I think some part of you must enjoy the hate. You're only unreasonable when it comes to Harry."

He’d grown tired of the conversation and he had work to do. He sent the rest of his drink back to the bottle. "You’ve never seen what he is like around me."

"You’ve never seen him at all." Albus shifted, his back straightening. "Have you made any progress on the Polyjuice Potion?"

Frustrated, Severus had to shake his head. "I can’t work on it at all now that the Dark Lord has forbidden it. I’ve researched it as well as I can with my new restrictions, but in order to properly investigate and create it, I need time for experimentation, and the experiments I’d need to conduct require too much time and too many resources to hide. If Granger and Weasley were to contact another Potions Master, I would readily suggest other, comparable potions that could be investigated without revealing our true intentions, but I don’t know of a suitable Potions Master within the UK who wouldn’t charge a high fee. I assume Granger and Weasley are lacking in funds."

Albus nodded, stroking his beard. After a bit, he said, "We may be able to ask Kreacher to aid us. Harry wouldn’t mind spending his money, I’m sure."

Potter would likely be dead before the end of the year if everything went well; still, Severus pointed out, "I can’t keep Obliviating him."

"No," agreed Albus firmly. "I can ask Kreacher during his next regular check-in. If he cannot do it without his Master’s direct permission, then we’ll find another way."

If Severus didn’t suspect that he might need what little money he had left, he would have offered his own. "What news have you heard recently?"

"Muggle Studies will most likely be eliminated, although you could veto the decision should you so choose."

He and Albus had already discussed that it was better to let the class be removed than to allow anti-Muggle indoctrination to be taught. It was one of the reasons why he’d subtly encouraged and cultivated the idea, whilst outwardly pretending to protest it and despise Lucius’s tightening grip of control. "I might," he said as he tidied up his desk, setting the whisky back in its drawer. "I’m curious to see if the Board has been influenced enough that they’d vote to override my veto. I’d rather find out during the making of a relatively unimportant decision than a more significant one. Lucius’s attempt to introduce remedial classes for those of less pure blood failed, and he has to be hoping for an opportunity to win against me."

As he didn't want to focus on his losses in Hogwarts, he changed the subject. "Are you certain that the Gringotts patrols are rotated weekly?"

Albus nodded. "I’ve asked Hadrian to be sure that a larger group of individuals isn’t responsible, but he believes that no more than six individuals share the duty each week. You are not the only one passing on information to my network and I suspect I’ll have more details for you soon."

Severus knew better than to ask who else was involved. Some Death Eaters played both sides, and even the loyal ones occasionally leaked information in order to try to root out spies and learn who talked to whom. Severus did this himself.

"I’m told his control of France isn’t as complete as he would believe," said Albus. "The majority of the wizarding population now believes their government to be under too much British influence and I suspect they won’t stand for that come next election. Knowing how the French love to protest, I suspect that the revolt might erupt sooner. I’ve asked my allies and contacts there to remain low for now while we formulate our plans."

Nodding, Severus made a mental note to renew contact with his French associates. "I’ll renew my associations in case we need to coordinate something. Have Granger and Weasley made any headway on investigating our list of possible Nagini locations?"

"A bit." Albus sighed and shook his head. "I’m afraid most of them are far too dangerous, and I must be careful with those two-"

"Gryffindors." Severus rolled his eyes. The rebellion in the hands of Gryffindors. It was a wonder it hadn’t completely failed yet.

"They’re eager to help Harry."

"I’m sure," Severus said dryly and stood. "I must return to my work. I’ve taken on a near useless new assistant. His name is Benjamin Young, he’s a half-blood Hufflepuff. See what you can find on him.”

"I’ll do my best," said Albus before he stood and left the frame.

Shrinking the portrait, Severus tucked it away and headed to the library for research. 

Some part of him thought that maybe, just once, he and Potter could possibly get along without incident, but mostly he knew such a thing couldn't happen. It didn’t come as a surprise that he threw Potter in the cupboard later that day. 

 

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	13. Chapter 13

When the Dark Lord swept into the potions lab, Severus thought that something had gone horribly wrong.

His stomach doing jumping jacks, he slowly turned from the boiling potion he was working on and evaluated which of the potions around him could be used as part of an attack.

The Dark Lord glanced at the mirror, his eyes travelling slowly over the image of the door that was floating in the centre of the frame. “Where is Potter?”

“In the cupboard,” said Severus, ignoring his impulse to grab his wand. “He was misbehaving.” Really, when did Potter _not_ misbehave?

The Dark Lord stared at him and, for the first time since he’d seen the redone cupboard, Severus became unsure as to its real purpose. “How will you know if he is about to do something dangerous?”

“As I did not chain him, the only thing he could do to harm himself is bash his head against the wall. As thick as his skull is, it would take some time before he could seriously injure himself, and I trust that your Lordship would alert me to his pain the moment he started.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes took in the nearest cauldron, which was full of Severus’s latest batch of Dreamless Sleep. In a voice that was half command, he said, “You told me you intended to convince the boy that you were his ally.”

Really? The Dark Lord wanted him to do it? “I can’t have a sudden change of heart. The boy’s an idiot, but he’d never believe it if my behaviour were to alter abruptly. I need to punish him severely now, then slowly ease my restrictions. Furthermore, he needs to understand that I am his Master and that he ought to obey me."

“Of course.” The Dark Lord turned to face Severus, his pose stark in the middle of the line of cauldrons as if he were about to command each to attack. Severus forced his hands onto the worktable in front of him to grind the Guasimo fruit with a pestle and mortar. He needed something in his hands if he couldn’t have his wand.

The Dark Lord asked, “What will you need to experiment with modifying Polyjuice to be more permanent?”

Somehow, Severus managed to keep his strokes even. “I will need access to possible transformation subjects, my Lord. Creatures similar to humans, but different enough that the Polyjuice change would remain intact for a longer period of time.”

“House-elves, goblins and centaurs?”

Severus nodded. “Perhaps also modified humans, such as vampires or werewolves. Maybe chimpanzees as well. I’ve collected plenty of samples of the boy’s hair for Polyjuice.” He motioned to the orderly row of vials he’d prepared earlier. “I believe it would be best to first attempt to give the creatures Polyjuice and examine the results, then modify the potion for each species. I may also need to work on it backwards - give bits of hair of these creatures to humans and see how permanent the change is. I suspect it may be easier to tailor Polyjuice to a creature rather than giving the same Polyjuice to a creature, but I cannot be certain until I start to experiment. It is not something I will be able to do entirely on my own. If you could perhaps prepare a lab with at least three competent Potions Masters, I could supervise their work as well as perform adjustments in my own lab.”

He doubted he would be given access to the creatures or a lab big enough to conduct the work himself, but he could always request additional samples from the goblin subject, which should be enough to make a private batch of human-to-goblin Polyjuice himself.

Then again, perhaps he could see if such a thing could be created in the other lab; after all, it should be easier to transport materials out of that lab than out of his own.

The Dark Lord reached into his robes and Severus wished he had thought to move his grinding to the other side of the table, so he could use the table for defence. As it was, only a few jars stood between him and the Dark Lord.

Instead of his wand, the Dark Lord retrieved a wooden box that fit neatly in his palm. “The _Oroxylum indicum_ ,” he said. “I collected them myself.”

This time, Severus could not hide his surprise, and he managed to recover himself long enough to take the samples with the reverence they deserved. “Thank you, my Lord. I’m certain I will not need to ask for more.” Although they had only built a few potions together, and all of that work had occurred during the Dark Lord’s first reign, Lord Voldemort had proven himself to be meticulous with details, and each of his potions had been absolutely splendid, with the depth and brewing skill matched by few. His inventiveness and curiosity extended to brewing and, although he did not experiment nearly as much as Severus, nor have an equally wide base of knowledge, he researched what he did not know.

Once, Severus would have been delighted at the attention his brewing was receiving; now he knew his only chance of success resided in distracting the Dark Lord. “Have you heard news of Sethlan’s project in the Americas? My post remains a bit unreliable.”

“I do not trust their post,” said the Dark Lord, gliding uncomfortably close to Severus. “I send someone to meet him at each major city and report directly back to me. I do not have high hopes for his project. No respectable Pureblood families settled in the colonies other than the French ones banned for practising Dark Arts, and most of those fled to Quebec. While I am certain we can rely on their support, I feel the rest of the continent is composed of polluted blood and will be of little use to me initially.”

_Potter bared his teeth, his thin legs flying all over again. "Your_ Master _isn't even a Pureblood, but-"_

Severus glanced at the Dark Lord. _Is that why you accepted me so eagerly when others would not?_ In a proud voice, he said, “Their blood may not be pure, my Lord, but they may prove themselves loyal.”

The Dark Lord’s lips twisted in an expression that might have looked like a smile had his face been more human. “You are quite right, Severus. Those who wish to serve me would do well to appreciate the loyalty you’ve displayed despite the pollution of your blood.”

_No more polluted than yours, my Lord_. He took the compliment and ignored the insult. He knew it was foolish to let their blood purity bullshit impinge on his feelings, but even amongst those who accepted him the most, he still remained on the outside through no fault of his own.

To distract himself, he said, “Thank you, my Lord,” as he opened the box of _Oroxylum indicum_. “Perfect.” They were. “Wherever did you acquire them?”

The Dark Lord’s eyes turned to the mirror, as though the door might open and Potter emerge at any moment. “The Botanical Gardens in Italy.”

Bullshit. Severus had contacted the collection three days before and found it lacking. Why had the Dark Lord lied? Did the true location give away the coordinates of the prison? Where could _Oroxylum indicum_ clippings be obtained outside of England and Italy? Did the Dark Lord know that Severus had been in communication with the administrator of the Botanical Gardens? If so, what was the purpose of the lie?

Casually, he said, “My compliments to the curator. I should be able to make enough paste for a base sufficient for experimentation on several bodies.” If the Dark Lord wouldn’t leave after small talk, perhaps potion talk would bore him.

The Dark Lord gave a short nod, then swept towards the staircase. “I’ll return tomorrow night.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Severus bowed, not righting himself until after the Dark Lord had Apparated away.

After waiting a few minutes, Severus turned to face the potions cabinet and closed his eyes. Upon opening them, he set straight to work.

Most Potion Masters believed that cauldrons could not be moved once a potion had been started, but Severus had discovered that brewing could continue uninterrupted as long as the heat source was maintained. Earlier, he’d loosened the stones beneath his biggest cauldron and now, with utmost care he lifted the entire floor, fire pit and all, floating it as high as he could. Crouching beneath the lifted stone, he crawled into the dirt, ignoring that internal voice that warned him he would be crushed to death should he lose his concentration.

He turned a chair into a shovel and dug without magic, so as to sustain the floating floor above him. Six foot by two foot by a foot and a half should be enough to contain the body and, other than lose chunks of rock, the soil gave way easily to the tip of his blade. Even though no Death Eaters were scheduled to arrive until later that evening, he knew that each second he worked was a second he could be discovered and so he stopped halfway, scrambling out of the dirt and onto the stone floor of the lab. Ignoring the pounding of his heart, he lowered the cauldron and floor, carefully setting them back in place. He wiped the sweat off his brow and cleaned dirt off his robes before checking the temperature of his Dreamless Sleep. Perfect.

He gathered the dirt in a pouch and stuffed it into a robe pocket to be disposed of later. With the snow blanketing the ground, he couldn’t just toss it outside, but hiding it under the snow should be enough to keep it hidden even after the thaw.

Turning back to his potions cabinet, he closed his eyes and reopened them. He needed to give something up soon. It was only natural that a man such as he would try to hide certain things from his Master, and the longer he went without secrets, the greater the Dark Lord’s suspicions would grow. But what to hide? Maybe something to do with Potter? Perhaps he could ‘secretly’ slip the boy more calming potions? Yes, he might do so in fear that his plan to gain the boy’s trust wouldn’t work on its own. If he showed more desperation for it to work, the Dark Lord would be pleased. The old calming potions didn’t work well enough anyway. 

He cleared one of the worktables and prepared a cauldron. His current calming draught worked through muting the emotions, but maybe he could try to stop the emotions from forming in the first place? No need to create a new potion from scratch; he could simply improve an old one. Kappa eyes to enhance absorption. Crane fly legs to slow absorption and allow the potion to act over longer periods of time. Pixie blood to counteract the bitterness of kappa eyes and turn it sweet. Potter _always_ ate dessert.

He brought the concoction to a low boil and stirred it thrice every half-hour. That evening, his potion turned clear and, when he tasted it, the few drops were enough to ease some of his stress and leave him feeling quite calm. Just what Potter needed. However, the syrupy sweet taste of the potion could not be hidden in ordinary food. He filled a small jar and headed to the kitchen. Pumpkin juice wouldn’t hide this, nor would strawberries. No, it would have to be hidden in some other fruit that Potter had never tasted before. He glanced at the basket of ridiculous food items he’d ordered two days before just to annoy Avery Senior.

Potter had never had fresh mangoes, had he? Probably not. Severus cut up the flesh and added a few drops of his new brew. He’d have to wait until the next day to test the potion, but that would be the perfect time to do it, as Potter would undoubtedly be stressed by the arrival of the Dark Lord for torture.

Not wanting to arouse Potter’s suspicions, he poured the usual glass of pumpkin juice and set it with the other dishes. As soon as he finished his household chores, he headed straight to his room to talk to Albus.

Albus didn’t show up for several minutes and, while he waited, Severus busied himself compacting the earth in his bag.

“I have good news,” said Severus once Albus had appeared, returning the bag to his robes. “I’ve been given permission to work on the non-human Polyjuice.”

Albus’s eyebrows shot up to the brim of his hat. “Wonderful! What did you do to change the Dark Lord’s mind?”

“Nothing,” said Severus and his stomach curled. Albus’s eyebrows drew in together.

“What do you think happened?” Albus quietly asked.

Severus shut his eyes, buried his face in his hand and thought. He thought back to every interaction he’d had with the Dark Lord since that moment when the Dark Lord first told him not to pursue that path. He thought of all his exchanges of information with other Death Eaters, the notes he’d sent, the notes he’d received, everything he’d shown and not shown the Dark Lord. He thought and thought and, at the end, he still had to say, “I don’t know.”

Albus took his chair. “Perhaps he simply changed his mind.”

The Dark Lord did not simply change his mind. Why had he decided otherwise? What did it mean? “Perhaps I’m being tested.”

“What sort of test do you think this is?”

He could not think of a satisfying answer. “Perhaps he’s about to take something away from me?”

“Harry?” Albus sharply asked.

_I’ve given you more than he has_. Severus shook his head. He had no time to focus on such useless, stupid thoughts now. “I doubt it. He needs me yet.” Did he? “He cannot trust any other Death Eater with the boy.” Could he? No. He had to focus on what he knew to be true and not let unfounded doubts cloud his head. “Either way, I need to give him something soon. An Order member perhaps?”

“No,” Albus refused, as Severus had known he would. “I don’t believe the situation is that dire.”

_Or that my life is that important._

“Besides,” said Albus, his fingers trailing through the end of his beard, “you could use your lack of communication with the Order as a reason for why you should be allowed more contact with the outside world. You are still extremely limited, are you not?”

“My owl is unreliable, but in addition to her, I receive regular visitors to my potions lab in the morning and evening. I’m also allowed, in the event of an emergency, to Summon the Dark Lord or one of his followers through the use of my Mark. He has failed to respond directly to a Summoning, which suggests to me that he spends most of his time far outside the range for easy Apparition.”

“And you are certain that he has no way of monitoring the events in this house or your lab, outside of viewing your memory?”

One could never be certain. He himself had done things most others considered impossible and the Dark Lord knew magic like few other wizards in history. Still, magic left traces and, if the Dark Lord had found a way to monitor Potter, it would need to be a powerful spell, strong enough to interfere with the wards. Severus had tested them multiple times, but he’d found no fracture or weakened point. “It is highly unlikely. He prides himself on his Legilimency, and since Potter has healed, no one other than myself has been allowed access. Perhaps he might give him to Lucius, but I doubt it.”

Albus nodded, but from the way his fingers twisted the hairs of his beard, Severus knew the answer hadn’t entirely satisfied him. “He trusts Lucius?”

“For now.” He hadn’t been intending to tell Albus of his inner conflict but with Hogwarts under attack, he needed help. “I’ve considered sabotaging Lucius; however, I may need him to remain in the Dark Lord’s trust. Narcissa is determined to earn my support, and she’ll be more valuable to me if her husband retains the Dark Lord’s confidence.”

Albus smoothed down his beard. “Be careful with her, Severus. She’s a clever witch.” 

Had he underestimated her? He’d be cautious about trusting her with information. “Is there possibly a spell-“

“Severus.” Albus’s eyes tightened and his mouth thinned. “Please don’t ask me for what I cannot give.”

_Will not. Not cannot._ If Albus feared for Potter’s life…. “Very well,” he sighed, pretending to forget the issue. “I shall just have to prove that my brewing is not a waste of his time.”

“I have no doubt that you will find a way to convince him of your worth on your own.”

_Not bloody likely._

Albus stood. “I have an appointment with Hadrian.”

Severus nodded his farewell. “I must attend to my potions.” He shrank the portrait, tucked it away, and glanced around his bedroom. He’d been in the potions lab far too often of late, had already prepared all the meals for the next day, and finished his latest batch of correspondence. Lifting up one of the potions books he’d brought to the bedroom, he thumbed through it, but he hadn’t the patience or the concentration to properly peruse the pages.

Perhaps he should sleep? His alertness potions wouldn’t wear off for another three hours. He’d pretend to go to bed, of course, for the Dark Lord’s sake, but he had no halls to roam for errant students, nor grounds to patrol. He had only the house, his lab, his potions, his books, and Potter.

Should he pull the boy out of the cupboard? He glanced at the mirror. The Dark Lord did want him to work on his plan to earn Potter’s trust. He couldn’t very well do that by keeping him locked up. Still, he wouldn’t have respect if Severus appeared weak, and if he let Potter out after only one day, he’d never earn compliance. 

No, better to leave Potter alone for now, and devise a way to gain the Dark Lord’s appreciation through potion brewing or spell craft. Speaking of which, he hadn’t had time to work on a particular spell recently….

Blinking away the time with Albus, he undressed, showered, and completed his nightly routine. After settling under the covers, he waited a short amount of time before rising again and casting, “ _Lumos!_ ” He relit his lamps and re-erected his wards, even tighter than before.

He only ever entirely undressed in the shower, but now he stripped down to his pants, laying out his clothes neatly, so that his potions and weapons would be in easy reach in the event of an attack.

He sat with his back straight, his knees crossed, and concentrated.

_”Do you swear to serve me, faithfully and without compromise, for the rest of your life?”_

_“I do, my Lord,” said Severus to the cobblestone floor beneath him, feeling the weight of every eye in the room on his head._

_“Do you swear to give your life to me? To the protection and defence of your brothers and sisters in Blood?” asked the Dark Lord, his voice echoing around the wide walls of Mulciber’s meeting hall._

_He would defend his brothers and sisters to his dying breath. “I will, my Lord.”_

_“Rise.”_

_His head still bowed, Severus straightened up._

_“Your arm.”_

_Without hesitation, he pulled back his sleeve, exposing his pale forearm._

_The Dark Lord pressed the tip of his wand to Severus’s skin, and magic seared through him, hot and sharp, so fierce he thought he might cry out from the pain of it. He pressed his lips tightly together, refusing to disgrace himself in front of his new family._

_Light burst from his skin as dark tendrils crept out from the wand tip, a fast growing vine of black that slowly twisted into the shape he’d wanted for nearly a year now._

_Applause burst out, drowning out the steady beat of his heart. He turned slowly, so as to capture the moment, to see every face that smiled its admiration and acceptance at him. Avery Junior winked at him, his father clapping with equal vigour. Mulciber, standing beside him, nodded his approval._

_“You will be great,” whispered the Dark Lord, his eyes proud, and Severus’s heart hurt so much he thought he might cry._

_How he worshipped him. Reverently, he whispered back, “Thank you, my Lord.”_

No book explained the Dark Mark; the Dark Lord had created it. Another spell had probably been selected and tweaked to make its development possible, but, although Severus had searched for over twenty years, he’d never been able to find anything that came close.

He skirted around the Mark, never daring to try to test it, lest it have a way of alerting the Dark Lord to any such attempts. Should he ever need to break its hold, he’d have to be quick. Attacking the Mark itself would never do. He had to go deeper, cut it off at the source.

There. That faint bit of magic deep in his chest that just didn’t seem to fit in with the others. He’d been bound by many spells over the years – including two Unbreakable Vows – and he knew that the successful creation of the Dark Mark, like that of an Unbreakable Vow, required the absolute, uncoerced consent of both parties. To rebel directly against an Unbreakable Vow resulted in death and, undoubtedly, the Dark Lord had put a similar failsafe into his own twisted version of the Unbreakable Vow. Severus couldn’t actively attack or destroy it, but he could possibly cage it; restrict it as it was still restricting him.

He danced around the edges, exploring without touching. The only way to test a caging spell would be to make an Unbreakable Vow, cage it, then break the vow. Nothing at all difficult in that.

 

_I am so jealous of all of you that have the opportunity to see it already. Who else is going (or has gone) to the midnight release? I'm going with my siblings and dressing up._


	14. Chapter 14

NoG Chapter to read: [5](http://kibatsu.livejournal.com/16314.html)

 

Chapter 14

 

Freedom at last!

At least freedom from the prison and the brat. For a moment, Severus considered pausing just to breathe in the fresh air, but the frigid wind nipped at his cheeks and mussed his hair, and he’d not cast warming spells on himself, hoping that feeling the temperature would give him some idea of location. It didn’t tell him much. He was some place cold with sheets of billowing snow as far as the range of his Lumos allowed him to see. 

“Here we are,” muttered Jugson, his fingers shaking as he cast the revelation spell.

Out of the blinding blankets of white appeared a solid black structure, the edges of which disappeared into the night.

Jugson groped around the wall until a loud click sounded above the wind, and a door swung open. “This way,” he said, leading Severus into a narrow, cramped room the size of the potion’s cupboard back at Hogwarts. 

Their host stood in the middle of the empty room, a dark-haired man Severus vaguely recognised, but could not place.

“Gary Stratford,” the man offered along with his hand. “Welcome to my lab.”

Jugson introduced himself, shaking Stratford’s hand. He nodded to Severus. “My assistant.“

“John Stevens.” Severus took the presented hand, his own Polyjuiced hand awkward in Stratford’s. He’d never heard of Stratford before, and the man dressed like an escort with his tight robes, but that didn’t surprise him. The Dark Lord had probably given oversight of the lab to a non-Potions Master in order to confuse the reports of the work. He knew that his Death Eaters posed a greater potential threat than the Order. 

Stratford brushed back a section of his long, curly hair and motioned for Jugson and Severus to follow him as he headed for one of the four doors in the room. His flashy, sky-blue trimmed robes flowed around him as he walked. “We’ve not finished ordering supplies, and we’ve only set up ten of our sixteen hearths, but we’ve already begun brewing.” He pulled open a heavy wooden door, leading the two of them into the sort of lab Severus would have expected the Dark Lord to build.

As dark and damp as the dungeons, the wide, high vaulted room served as both brewing quarters and potions cupboard. Shelves covered every inch of the wall - even though only half had been filled - whilst everything else, even the rinsing stations, was positioned in the centre of the room, visible to every eye.

No one could hide anything in this lab.

Four Potions Masters and their assistants were busying themselves around the ten brewing cauldrons. One, preparing doxy hearts on the worktable nearest to them, glanced up upon their entry, but soon returned to his work. The rest ignored them, their pace suggesting that they thought they could solve the potion problem within a short period of time.

As his Polyjuiced face made him appear seventeen, and the Dark Lord had already given him thick scrolls on the Potions Masters he’d hired, Severus focused on observing the set-up of the lab as Jugson made his introductions to the others in the room. Officially, his duty was to record all the materials and the status of the work. No one paid him any mind as he moved around the room, observing the brews as he pretended to count the number of cauldrons, worktables, and hearths. After so long of having his every action observed, it was a welcome relief. At this point, he would even prefer boring accounting work to brewing as long as it meant he wouldn’t have to return to that stifling prison any time soon. To imagine hours, perhaps even days without Potter still seemed too much like a lovely dream. 

He copied all of the files and case notes to a few scrolls of parchment, to be examined later, and peered in pretend wonder at a cauldron boiling with what appeared to be Polyjuice mixed with a hair growth potion.

If Stratford found the Dark Lord’s lack of trust in his project disconcerting, he didn’t show it. He entirely ignored Severus. After giving Jugson an overly involved tour, he left the room, returning shortly with a small blond boy, one who couldn’t have been much older than a first year. 

“On the table,” he said, not unkindly, as he pulled off the small hospital frock that covered the boy’s frame.

The now-naked child hesitated, his wide hazel eyes drifting around the room, but then he climbed on top of a work bench, his bare back exposed. Three wide, reddened strips of injured flesh ran parallel to each other from the left shoulder blade down to just above the right buttock. The scars were fresh - a week old at the most - and weren’t his only injuries. 

“Our werewolf,” said Stratford, as if such a creature had been far more difficult to obtain than allowing Greyback in a room with the child for a few minutes. “We’ve had the most promising results with him. Bring in one of the test subjects.”

An assistant hurried from the room, her black robes billowing behind her as she nearly ran towards the opposite door. After a few minutes’ wait, she returned with an elderly Asian man whose hands had been tied together. The man had been in the prison long enough to not object when handed a vial of the modified Polyjuice potion mixed with a fresh clip of the boy’s hair. As they all watched, the boy with wide-eyed fascination, the man transformed into the boy - albeit with no hair.

Stratford frowned. “I thought we’d figured that problem out.”

The assistant removed the Asian man from the room as the Potions Masters gathered around a cauldron, debating amongst themselves how to fix that particular problem. Severus resisted the urge to call them all idiots, roll back his sleeves, and fix the problem for them. _Of course_ the hair growing solution wouldn’t work. They hadn’t successfully Polyjuiced the man into the werewolf boy, they’d only Polyjuiced him into the boy. The disease changed hair growth, irreparably transforming the follicles. Had none of them ever tried making their own Wolfsbane Potion? 

He wrote a scathing report on the scroll he’d deliver straight to the Dark Lord, as well as a list of comments and questions he’d supposedly receive from the Dark Lord after he sent in his report. The Dark Lord had gained his reputation as an extraordinary Potions Master due to Severus’s work, but in moments like these, Severus didn’t care. If the full extent of his own skill had been widely known, he’d have had to deal with added post from these dunderheads as they tried to figure out what they’d done wrong. 

They worked well into the night, until Jugson, probably feeling out of sorts and even more gormless than usual, announced that they would leave for the evening to report to the Dark Lord and return the next morning.

In the entry way, Severus grasped the Portkeyed book Jugson offered him, and found himself standing before the Dark Lord in what appeared to be a family’s dining room.

He bowed. “My Lord.”

“Rise.” The Dark Lord motioned for him to stand. “Follow me, Severus.”

He turned and strode away, and Severus quickly followed. Jugson headed off in the opposite direction, his sure step suggesting familiarity with the expensively decorated home.

The Dark Lord led him into a library designed more for making an impression than for functionality judging by the dust covering some of the books. He stood by the fireplace and motioned for Severus to have a seat in one of the plump arm chairs.

_I’ve done nothing wrong. At least nothing that he knows about._ Severus took the chair and waited.

The Dark Lord asked, “What have they done wrong?”

Severus’s smile was genuine. “Am I so easy to read?”

“I know how critical you are.” The Dark Lord wandered over to a cabinet and waved it open with an easy flick of his long fingers. He removed a decanter filled with a dark red liquid and poured two glasses, floating one over to Severus. “Few meet your standards.”

Severus caught the glass and cast the standard spells of revelation and protection. The Dark Lord did not do the same with his own, but then, Severus had yet to see him imbibe any sort of nourishment since he’d taken his new body. Severus had no idea how to respond to the comment, or if he should even respond, and so he took a sip of the drink. Wine of some sort. When the Dark Lord did not say anything, Severus figured he might as well kiss arse. “You deserve only the best, my Lord.”

The red eyes narrowed slightly and a pit opened in Severus’s stomach. The slight curve of the thin lips did nothing to close it. After a moment, the Dark Lord said, “The boy’s supporters will continue to rebel against me as long as he remains their figure head. If I release news of his capture, they will simply redouble their efforts.”

An explanation for why they were researching the Polyjuice? “With a more permanent form of Polyjuice, no one will ever suspect-”

“No, Severus. You must convince him to join me.”

Rarely had Severus been caught completely off guard. In the past, he’d predicted or at least understood what the Dark Lord asked of him, but ever since that night in the graveyard, the Dark Lord seemed to be playing by a different game. Had the fracturing of his soul damaged his brain? After several moments of undisguised shock and confusion, Severus asked, “You wish him to take the Mark?”

The Dark Lord wrinkled in disgust what should have been a nose. “He’s not worthy of the Mark. If you can earn his trust, then you can convince him to willingly kneel before me.”

Never. Potter never would. He’d rather die than serve the Dark Lord. For a moment, Severus considered saying just that. However, it would gain him nothing but annoyance. He needed time. He didn’t need a solution, he just needed it to appear as though he were working towards a solution. “I will need time, my Lord. It will take . . . months. At least.”

The Dark Lord’s face closed. “Have you no suitable potions?”

“None that won’t be easily detected. If you wish to fully convince the world, he needs to submit of his own free will. I’ll need-” Threads joined together and then he knew what he would do. “I’ll need you to grant Lucius the privilege of torture.”

“Why?”

Severus lazily sipped as his drink, keeping his face impassive as though he had already considered every angle of the plan, not wanting the Dark Lord to know he was making it up as he went along. “I gather Lucius tortured the boy worse than any of the others and, although the memories remain inaccessible to Potter, they still lurk beneath the surface, affecting his subconscious. Invent an excuse to reward Lucius. I’ll give Potter a monster worse than me, a monster terrifying enough that he will flee to me for protection. After he has become dependent on me, I’ll train him to respect you.” Lucius, believing the reward to be the result of his hard work, would overestimate his standing. He’d never suspect that Severus had given it to him. If Severus could convince the Dark Lord to keep Lucius at a higher level than he actually deserved, Lucius would start to overstep himself again. If Severus played this right, he could earn the Dark Lord’s trust, destroy Lucius, and play nice with Potter enough to earn Albus’s approval. 

“What should I allow Lucius to do?”

_A piercing scream tore through the room and Potter's body jerked as if yanked by countless invisible strings._

“He ought to be restricted,” said Severus. “Potter will be difficult to heal if we him to do as he pleases. No Dark Magic and nothing that can’t be fixed within three days. If he submits a list of ideas to me, I can approve what can be fixed in time for your next visit.” That should limit Lucius, but also give him plenty of room. So far, the Dark Lord had been remarkably agreeable about allowing Potter time to heal. Severus didn’t want to push his luck too far, and this plan would never work unless he let Lucius actually hurt the boy.

He knew he had the tendency to be greedy, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Perhaps it would be possible for you to do something else to further cement Potter’s view of me as his companion and saviour. I could . . . give Potter some sort of reward. Some privilege. Lucius could ‘catch’ me in the act, and you could publicly deny Potter said privilege.”

The Dark Lord narrowed his red eyes, but the curve of his mouth spoke of amusement rather than dislike. “Such as?”

Shit. He should have thought of something first. “Perhaps I could take him to the potions lab.”

The long fingers tapped against the glass, the eyes unblinking. “You told me it would be dangerous.”

Bloody hell. “To keep him there, yes. Not for a short visit. You would, of course, prevent any other visitors from arriving on that day besides Lucius. I would keep Potter blindfolded while I move him between the buildings, and the exact day that you would send Lucius over will be chosen by you, with note sent to me a few hours before the event is to take place, in order that we can be certain no one else would know of it.”

It was too ambitious, but he needed to try everything he could.

The Dark Lord smiled and raised his glass. “You shall have everything you need.” He sent the glass to the fireplace mantel and swept from the room.

Severus could not believe his luck.

That luck remained with him for the rest of his assignment. Although he was constantly accompanied by other Death Eaters, and suspected he remained under surveillance when they left him alone in Jugson’s guest house, he was at least out of that damn house and free to send post through a variety of methods and individuals. He was even offered a girl, although he declined, as he had too much work to do to allow for distractions. Just the knowledge that he could leave the prison and have a bit of his old life was enough to bolster his spirits to the point that, when Jugson accompanied him back the kitchen felt no longer as claustrophobic as before.

Macnair emerged from the den to greet him. “You have nothing to worry about,” he said. “The boy didn’t cause any trouble at all.”

Severus had thought that Potter would react better to Macnair than to himself - they didn’t have a similarly bad history -, but when did Potter avoid trouble? “He didn’t start anything?’

“I kept him in the cupboard,” Macnair boasted. “Fed him dog food. He ate it.”

Primitive, but apparently effective. Severus had no need for Macnair and waved him away as quick as he could.

Perhaps Macnair’s treatment meant that he could start on his plan sooner than anticipated. He prepared a miniature feast and stepped downstairs to ‘rescue’ Potter.

The smell hit him as soon as he opened the door. Potter always had a strong, sort of musky scent that teenaged boys typically carried. Now, he stank of piss and what was probably dog food. He blinked at Severus from the floor of the cupboard, his hair an even more ridiculous mess than before. Something dark spotted his face near his lips. Dog food, perhaps? He squeezed his eyes shut, his thin arms moving as best they could to protect him against the bright light. 

“Get up, Potter,” commanded Severus, waving away the chains with his wand.

Potter blinked in Severus’s direction, his vivid eyes bearing little of that constant defiance that they’d carried since the age of eleven. As he pulled himself to his feet on his skinny legs, he looked the orphan he was.

Severus opened the bathroom door and waited.

Potter emerged slowly, like a kitten still learning to walk. In the darkness of the cupboard, the bruises covering his chest had been hidden in shadow, but now they stood out: harsh marks of blue, red, and purple against pale skin.

Had Macnair not given him enough of the healing potion? Potter should’ve been recovered by now.

Severus waited patiently, watching Potter’s unsteady steps until the boy had entered the bathroom. He turned on his heel after casting the viewing spell inside the bathroom and entered Potter’s cage. He always kept an emergency first aid kit in his robes, but there was no need for Potter to see that. He spread it out on the table, plucking the bandages out, and examining what potions he had inside. A muscle repair potion? How deep did the injuries lie? The Dark Lord would not have tolerated Potter to be in pain, but perhaps Macnair had kept the boy drugged with analgesics. It would explain some of his unsteadiness and unnatural calm. Nothing mixed with analgesics then, lest he overdose. Perhaps a healing potion for the muscles, another for the skin, and one that worked internally to help with any injuries that couldn’t be healed by the others. An internal healing potion with a sleeping potion mixed in. He had work to do.

After setting aside the needed items and returning all his potions to his kit, he returned to the bathroom, only to find Potter trying to break into the potions cupboard. 

Typical Gryffindor. Rather than point out the stupidity of Potter’s actions, he said, “Your chest needs to be bandaged; follow me.”

To his surprise, Potter did not fuss but followed him out, gripping his towel tightly to himself. A wave of Severus’s fingers had Potter summoned to his side. 

Potter stood slightly hunched, his fingers white around the towel he was clutching at his waist. His striking eyes lacked their normal fierce anger, and he stared at Severus’s chest rather than his face.

To avoid touching Potter as much as possible, Severus applied both potions at once. He brushed Potter’s warm skin only as necessary, his hands moving efficiently over the damaged flesh. After a sufficient amount of potion had been applied, he gently bandaged the area, then washed his hands of the remains of the potions. Tucking the vials back in his robes, he summoned food down from the warmers and Potter nearly dove at the table.

Severus poured the mixture of healing and sleeping potions into Potter’s pumpkin juice. If the boy didn’t already suspect he’d been drugged all along, he would soon. Better to own it and pretend as though he was reducing the dosages.

"That will heal any lingering internal injuries," Severus said as he tucked the bottle back into his robes. "Drink before the potion separates or the taste will become too foul for you to finish the juice."

Potter nodded, his attention on his meal.

If leaving Potter with another guard made him this submissive, perhaps it should happen more often. Avery would probably jump at the chance to babysit. 

 

_I wouldn't hire Avery as my babysitter! Please review._


	15. Chapter 15

Severus wiped his hands on his robes and reached for the knocker. It was his third try. The last two times had resulted in him marching back down the winding walkway, away from Avery’s home. Did he even have the right address? What if Avery Senior answered? What if Avery just laughed at him? It wasn’t as if they had spent more time together than he had with anyone else in Slytherin House. The only reason he’d come here was because Avery had heard the news of Lord Voldemort’s first visit and congratulated Severus during Transfiguration. He should forget this. Forget the whole thing. What had he been thinking? He didn’t have what it took to be a Death Eater. He could never....

He’d come too far to quit now. He had to at least talk to Avery, see if something else could be done. Before he could stop himself, he rapped on Avery’s door.

Silence.

Merlin’s balls, he’d been an idiot.

He turned around to leave and the door opened.

“Severus?”

The son, not the father. Severus plastered a smile on his face. “Avery, do you have a moment?”

“Sure.” Avery stepped outside. “Father asked me to inspect the gardens. Care to come along?”

Avery rarely failed to mention his father in any conversation. It was part of the reason why he only went by his last name.

Severus nodded and followed the handsome, dark-haired boy down a twisted path. “Thank you. I- I wasn’t sure where else to go.”

His steps falling surely, Avery said, “The Dark Lord has given you your task, hasn’t he?”

So he wasn’t singled out? He let out the huge burst of air he’d been holding since Lord Voldemort had last visited him. “He asked me-”

Avery’s hand cut him off. “You mustn’t speak of any plans unless the Dark Lord has given you permission.”

Lord Voldemort hadn’t said anything about that.

_”You must prove your devotion to our cause, Severus. This is the only way I can be certain that you will not fail us.”_

“He didn’t.” It had been a mistake to come here. “I didn’t think it mattered. It only involves my family.”

Avery stopped and turned to him, his blue eyes sharp. “Your mother?”

Slowly, Severus shook his head. “My father. My mother is pure, a member of Slytherin.”

Tsking, Avery shook his head, his perfectly styled hair falling artfully around his face. “Some women...” He sighed. “You care for your father?”

“No, Merlin, no.” It should have made it easier, but it didn’t. If Tobias fell dead that moment he wouldn’t shed a tear, but to kill the man mother loved, the man who had proven capable of those fleeting moments of kindness.... “But it’s _murder_. If it were someone who had killed a hundred wizards, I could do it. But my father....” He swallowed. Tobias had roughed up that prat Jeremy. Tobias had nicked a bike for him.

Nodding, Avery motioned for him to follow. “Follow me.” He led him to a small gazebo by a dark lake. There, he draped himself over one of the benches and motioned for Severus to sit on the other.

His body moving before his mind could catch up, Severus sat and stared at his hands. If Tobias had hurt mother recently this would be easier, but the man had been remarkably well behaved these past few years, only fighting in the pub instead of with his wife. After the incident with the bottle of whiskey, he’d never bothered Severus and could even be kind. On occasion.

“The Dark Lord doesn’t ask for what’s easy to give because our fight won’t be easy,” said Avery softly. “There’ll always be those who view us as villains, and yes, some of what we do is monstrous, but if we don’t act quickly and decisively we’ll fail. You know that we’ll be destroyed if we allow those Muggle-lovers to chain us. Tell me, how did your father react to learning your mother was a witch?”

Tobias hated magic, but whenever he was drunk and the house wasn’t clean or dinner wasn’t ready, he would yell at mother for not using magic to better their situation. “Poorly.”

Avery smiled smugly and Severus hastened to add, “But that doesn’t mean I want him dead. Or every other Muggle dead. I want us to be able to reveal ourselves and set up a competent group of wizard leaders, but not if it means genocide.”

“It won’t,” said Avery as he leant back against the railing with a casual elegance Severus could only dream of attempting. “No one wants that except for those who’ve had family members and friends killed in brutal ways. They aren’t in command though; the Dark Lord is in command. There are many who do things in his name, but pay no attention to them. Pay attention to his words, to his promises, to what he’ll do. He listens to those in his closest circle. If you manage to get there despite your . . . handicap, he’ll listen to you. I heard that he _chose_ you. Do you know how rare that is? Especially for-”

He didn’t want to hear any more comments on the purity of his blood, so he said, “I know that. I know he’s . . .” The most cleverly inventive wizard Severus had ever seen, capable of doing things once thought impossible. “Powerful. I know that the Muggles would kill us if they believed we existed. I’ve seen their hatred and bigotry first hand.”

“The world needs to be changed and you can’t do anything unless you have power. That’s a fact. You know that he will win. Who could possibly match him? Dumbledore?” Avery laughed, an infectious sound. “If you join us, you’ll be able to change the course of history. If you prove yourself worthy, you could move up in his ranks and influence him.”

“I know,” he said, miserably. “But it’s my _father_.” The man who’d given life to him even though he’d drunkenly expressed regret over that fact several times. How could Severus ever admit it or explain it to Lily, never mind that she’d refused to speak to him all year?

Avery looked out over the lake. “If it were easy, it wouldn’t be worth doing.”

~

When Avery Portkeyed into the lab, Severus groaned inwardly. He’d been busy working on reports gathered from the other lab, and had no time to work on any of Avery’s projects. Still, he greeted the other Death Eater warmly.

Avery strode forward and put a package the size of a bread loaf on one of the worktables, a self-congratulatory smile on his face. “Don’t worry, it hasn’t been shrunk or transported by Apparition.”

The more finicky a potion ingredient, the fewer forms of magic it could tolerate. Curious, Severus set aside his ladle and crossed the room. He hadn’t ordered anything recently that required such precautions.

“What is it?” he asked, too wary to touch an unknown package, even one Avery had brought.

Avery’s smile widened. “It’s from Sethlans. We used our fathers’ network to transport it.”

Which meant that the Dark Lord hadn’t examined it.

After casting protection spells on himself (one could never be too careful), Severus opened the package. Rather than one solid object, it contained several small boxes carved from various materials. He picked up one made of oak and read the label: _Bison bison_ hair. Ingredient supplies from the States. Although Sethlans had been an average Potions student, he had a knack for acquiring rare, hard-to-find items due to his intelligence and negotiation skills. Whatever else the boxes contained, at least a few of the items would be well worth having. Worth more than anything Severus could ever afford on his own.

Avery, knowing what Severus desired and well aware of Sethlans’s talents, gave a little chuckle. “When Sethlans wrote and said that he had potion supplies for you, I knew that it would be a while before you could receive them by normal channels. I’d already intended to visit New York, so it was a simple matter to pick them up.”

A simple matter that must have taken some skill, time, and more than a few Galleons to pull off. Severus nearly threw his arms around Avery. Instead, he simply said, “I look forward to seeing what he has given me.”

Avery threw back his head and laughed infectiously. “Knowing you, you’ll probably spend the next couple of days in here. Enjoy.” He turned and left, his back straight and his steps proud. He didn’t even wait for Severus to gift him with a potion, which meant he didn’t expect one.

Alone in his lab, Severus smiled and shook his head. Avery could be quite the prat sometimes, but he never failed to find a way to more than make up for it. It was such an unexpected boon that when Severus left to give Potter his breakfast, he regretted putting sleeping potions in it earlier. He could probably have dealt with the boy being obnoxious.

Apparently, Potter was in a good mood too, for instead of attacking Severus, he threw _Hunchback_ to the side and said, "He's a pervert! He should leave the poor gypsy girl alone. He acts like hurting himself excuses everything he's done."

Severus had had much the same reaction when he first read it, but he couldn’t agree with Potter so easily. "He can't help himself; he is desperately in love with her.”

"He's going to get her killed! She's already been tortured because of him!"

"He has decided that if he can't have her, no one can." He Summoned breakfast.

"That's not love," Potter scoffed with the rigid certainty that only a Gryffindor could muster. "That's obsession. I hope Quasimodo kills him. He's old and ugly and a dirty pervert." He left the bed and took his seat at the table.

There it was, the heart of the matter. Gryffindors claimed to believe in ‘fairness’ and ‘equality’ but only those who fit their idea of ‘good’ ever received fair treatment. Severus crossed his arms. "Your implication that only the young and beautiful deserve love is asinine, but I am not surprised to hear it from the likes of you. You young fools always place appearance above character and ostracise those who do not match the conventional standards of beauty. Furthermore, you've neglected to observe any parts of the relationship between Quasimodo and Frollo, and yet you argue for patricide in such a cavalier fashion. He should kill the only man who has ever cared for him for the sake of a silly girl who finds his visage abhorrent?"

"Of course! The old man doesn't love him; he's just using him. Yeah, she finds him ugly and she's never going to be with him, but he could admire her from afar and he'd know that she's alive because of him."

He’d been willing to do that for Lily, but it had been torture. He could see why a weaker man would take more. "Mr Potter, I think you'll find that there are very few individuals who can gaze upon their heart's desire and not be consumed by the need for possession. That is why men waste away in front of the Mirror of Erised." It was a good start. Better to leave now, while they could manage a reasonable conversation. Turning, Severus left.

"I'd kill him," insisted Potter.

_Could you?_ He probably could after Lucius was through with him. Speaking of which, he needed to prepare for the night.

The Dark Lord had sent a message stating that he would begin the festivities late. No dinner. What did that mean? Did he plan to have it elsewhere and exclude Severus? Was it a form of neglect since Severus had asked for so much and received it? Perhaps the Dark Lord believed that granting Severus’s wishes privately allowed him to know where he stood, so there was no reason for him to sit through dinner. Either way, relief mixed with paranoia had filled Severus’s stomach since the post had arrived.

At least he had been able to select Lucius’s form of torture: needles coated with Hellesborne. He had written back expressing exactly where Lucius would be allowed to stick them, and how long they could be. It would hurt, but Potter would heal within a day, provided that Lucius didn’t overstep his bounds.

He flipped through his cookbook for appetisers and prepared a few dishes. The Dark Lord would probably not eat anything, and regard the use of his time to be frivolous, but Severus knew that soon he’d be locking himself up in his lab with his new Potions ingredients (and possibly Potter), and he wanted as much time out of the lab as he could spare.

He cleaned the throne room with a few spells and prepared lunch and dinner. As the sleeping potions would keep Potter under for quite some time, there was no need at all to feed him lunch. He put dinner in the warmer, ate lunch, collected his post from the belligerent Strix, and after he’d finished organising everything in the house, left for the bedroom to chat with Albus.

Albus, who either had a sixth sense about these things or spent most of his days waiting for Severus, stood in the frame. He smiled when he saw Severus. “I was starting to think something had happened.”

“I’ve been busy,” answered Severus, although in actuality he didn’t want to tell Albus much about what his Polyjuice plans required. Albus wouldn’t approve of the use of test subjects. “The Dark Lord arrives tonight and with him Lucius.” He knew better than to admit that he had been the one who suggested Lucius should be granted the privilege of torturing Potter.

“Oh, dear.” Albus’s thick eyebrows slid in towards each other and he stroked his beard. “How is Harry taking it?”

“He doesn’t know yet. I think the apprehension would make him sick.” How many times had he himself been sick when he suspected the Cruciatus would come his way? He’d once spent an entire day in the loo.

“You must support him through this, he’s only a child.”

_Potter emerged slowly, like a kitten still learning to walk._ “I know,” he said. “I plan to do everything I can to help him through it.” Including feeding him plenty of calming potions, if that was what was necessary.

“He’s strong,” said Albus as if he were reminding himself of that fact. “But he needs someone like you in his life. Someone who can guide him away from his natural rash impulsiveness and provide him with a feeling of support.”

Trying to stop Potter from being impulsive and rash sounded like trying to catch a storm in a handbasket. “I’ll do my best.” Speaking of Potter, he pulled out the mirror and glanced at it. “Potter is currently on top of the table, doing something with the chairs.” That sleeping potion didn’t last nearly long enough.

Albus chuckled. As Severus stood, he said, “Tell him about Lily.”

“On my death bed.” Shrinking the portrait, Severus stuck it in his robes along with the mirror. How long had Potter been mucking about unsupervised? Hopefully not too long.

He strode down into the cellar. _Don’t yell. Civilly explain how he’s an idiot who could hurt himself._

As soon as he opened the library door, Potter slid off the table. “What if I wasn’t dying but wanted to talk to you?”

"I doubt there would be such a need, but should it ever occur, you are allowed to call for me. However, if you abuse the privilege, the consequences would be the same." Severus debated leaving, but he figured he’d lose his authority unless he had arrived in the cellar with some purpose in mind. He couldn’t exactly rebuke Potter for playing with the chairs if he was to pretend that he wasn’t monitoring the boy. "It is time for your bath."

Potter said, "I prefer showers, you know,” as he pulled off his shirt, dropping it on the floor, and stuck his hands through the bars.

Severus had told himself that he wouldn’t rise to the bait, but Potter said it in such a bratty tone, he had to respond. As he chained the boy’s wrists, he said, "I assumed that you were astute enough to figure out how to operate something as simple as a bathtub, Potter, but once again I have made the mistake of overestimating your intelligence."

The glare vanished almost as soon as it appeared. Either the calming potions were working well, or Potter had likewise decided to try being respectful.

In the bathroom, he remembered why he had always presumed that Potter preferred baths and provided him with bubble bath liquid. The moment Potter stripped himself bare, he could feel his cheeks heating, surely turning pink. It was one thing to look at Potter’s naked body through a mirror or on a table where he could focus his mind on clinical work. It was another to see the naked body moving freely before him.

The Dark Lord had forbidden Potter from wearing clothes in the throne room as a way to degrade him, and it was degrading for Potter, but more so for everyone else involved. If it were up to Severus, the boy would be clothed at all times, despite the fact that the elder Potter had embarrassed him in front of countless classmates by stripping Severus close to naked. Potter naked just made him feel perverted and awkward, as there was nothing attractive at all in that scrawny form, and the boy had been drugged so much, he didn’t react with the shame that most children in his position would have.

In fact, to Severus’s growing horror, Potter had so little shame, he hummed happily to himself as his hands drifted to his rapidly growing prick. Although he wasn’t much to look at flaccid, it had been rather large the times Severus had seen it erect.

Merlin’s balls! He shouldn’t be able to picture his student’s dick! Severus focused his gaze solidly on the potions cabinet. Maybe he should leave? But then, Potter might take his absence as an invitation to . . . go to town. Augh! He should _not_ be thinking of this! He seriously needed another break.

Potter shut off the water, but Severus remained focused on the potions cabinet until he could see the towel around Potter’s waist out of the corner of his eye. He glanced fully over to see Potter, cheeks bright pink, awkwardly trying to pull on his bottoms without revealing anything.

Teenagers. Grabbing their dicks one moment, blushing in shame the next. After Potter had struggled with his clothes for nearly a minute, Severus snapped, “Just put on your trousers; it’s not like I’ve not seen it already.”

The pink turned red, all the way to the tips of Potter’s ears. He dropped the towel and yanked his trousers up, tying them tightly. “Yeah,” he muttered as he scrambled back to his cage. “I forgot for a bit what a pervert you are.”

Severus wasn’t the one who’d been masturbating in front of the other! “I think you are projecting, Potter,” he said as he strode to the table and Summoned Potter’s afternoon meal.

Potter crossed his arms and scowled at Severus. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Amused at Potter’s embarrassment, Severus said, “That’s the second time you’ve stimulated yourself in my presence,” as he walked out of the cage and waved the bars closed behind him.

Potter yelled, "I forgot you were there!" at his back.

Severus headed to his room. He needed a shower himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one. Or a wank. No, he hadn’t been a teenager for a long time. He certainly wouldn’t do anything now, so soon after interacting with Potter. He might think of Potter whilst masturbating. How revolting would that be?

He shuddered and stripped, transferring the contents of his pockets into a new set of robes as he removed each layer. Finally undressed, he rechecked the wards on the door and showered with the curtain left open, his wand and Albus’s wand resting on the edge of the tub.

Afterwards, he dressed, returned to his bedroom and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he fetched the photo album from his bedside table and opened it to his favourite picture of Lily.

“I know you would be upset about my decision to give your son to Lucius for the night, but it’s better that I give him to him on my terms, when I can control his actions. I don’t think he’ll gain the privilege again any time soon. He’s never been very clever. Not nearly as clever as you.”

She smiled and waved at the camera, her eyes exactly the same as her son’s from this distance. Despite all that James Potter had given his son, so much of the boy remained identical to her. The quirk of his lips when he chatted with his friends. The way he wrote the letter ‘g’. How he sometimes frowned when he concentrated on an exam, tapping his chin with his quill tip.

Severus sighed. She would be furious. He closed the photo album and returned it to his bedside table, fetching _World Mythologies_ instead. The thought of Potter putting his beastly hands on it turned his stomach, but how it could change things should Potter learn where Severus had gotten it! Probably not for the better, but perhaps Albus was right and in that case, he needed to give something of Lily’s to Potter now, whilst the animosity remained strong between them. 

Several individuals Apparated to his kitchen and he knew the Dark Lord had arrived. He slipped the book into his sleeve and went to meet his guests. In addition to the Dark Lord and Lucius, Dolohov stood in his kitchen.

Lucius’s smile could not have been more smug, but Severus found it more amusing than aggravating.

“I’ll fetch the boy, my Lord,” he offered with a bow.

The Dark Lord waved him away with a flick of his fingers.

He hurried to the cellar, slowing as he walked down the stairs and opened the door to Potter’s section of the house.

Potter was lying on his bed, reading his book. When he noticed Severus at the bars, a look of resolution crossed his face and he closed his book, pushing it to the side.

Stepping into the cage, Severus said, “I noticed that you have nearly finished reading _The Hunchback_. Based on your alacrity for finding trouble, I have procured another book for you to read.” Reluctantly, he handed the book over.

Potter gave a suspicious look, as though he suspected the book had been poisoned. “Thanks?”

There was nothing more he could do. “Now strip, Lucius is waiting.”

Severus hadn’t thought Potter’s face could turn any paler, but it somehow did. Potter’s fingers remained steady, but his eyes focused on one of the bedposts as he robotically removed his clothing. He stood and nearly stumbled, his legs shook so much.

For the first time in who knew how long, Severus offered support, expecting it to be rebuffed. One hand on Potter’s back was enough to steady him, and the boy seemed to straighten. Potter’s normally warm skin felt cold and, for the first time since he’d hatched the plan, Severus wondered if he’d made a mistake. Perhaps Lucius had done too much damage for Potter to handle the torture. Perhaps the boy would go catatonic.

At the top of the stairs he paused and re-chained Potter’s wrists. As gently as he could, he said, “He arrived a day early. I wouldn’t have fed you tonight if I had known.” The last thing he wanted to see was Potter being sick all over the floor again.

Potter turned and walked through the door, his legs trembling. He moved to the centre of the room and sank to his knees.

Severus walked to the dais to bow again, but the Dark Lord waved his fingers and a chair appeared.

“Thank you, my Lord,” he said as he took it.

The Dark Lord watched Potter and Lucius with raw hunger. “Enjoy the show.”

Did that mean he had to watch? Would the Dark Lord tolerate conversation? He really didn’t want to sit and admire Lucius torturing Potter. Even if he had liked Lucius and wanted to pay him the respect, torture hadn’t amused him in a long time.

He fixed his gaze on a point past Potter and adopted a bored expression. The Dark Lord would expect him to pretend to be disinterested.

A slap rang through the room and Potter jumped. Severus’s couldn’t help but look over.

In a voice that was soft yet authoritative enough to fill the room, Lucius said, “I did not give you permission to close your eyes, boy.”

Potter stared at him, his eyes wide behind the glasses he was now wearing. Were those his original glasses? Severus had assumed they’d been destroyed when Potter had been captured. If they were he needed to try to take them from Lucius or gain another copy as they could be used as a bargaining chip.

Always more concerned with presentation than content, Lucius put on a show of revealing the needles.   
Apparently amused by Potter’s open display of fear, Lucius teasingly said, “I am going to stick these in you. I'll give this one to you as a gift, but you will need to ask for the rest of them. When you ask for them you will say 'another, please' and I will give it to you. Whenever I ask you a question you will answer with 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir,' is that understood?”

Of course, Potter stupidly said nothing and Lucius punished him. Knowing Potter, this portion of the evening could go on for quite some time. Not that Lucius would tire of it.

Lucius said, “I asked you a question, boy. Now give me an answer.”

To Severus’s surprise, Potter said, “Yes, sir.” Didn’t the boy intend to hold out all night?

“Much better,” said Lucius, although Severus thought he heard a bit of disappointment in his tone. Lucius had probably hoped that Potter would resist longer.

Of course, he didn’t have to wait. When Potter answered, “No, sir” to “Would you like another?” Severus inwardly groaned. He should’ve known to expect that this would be dragged out by Potter’s stupidity. He concentrated on the wall, ignoring Potter’s little whimpers of pain.

Lucius asked, “Would you like another?” as he picked up the next needle.

Perhaps Severus should try making his own bread. The recipe he’d seen the day before didn’t look that difficult, and it would be excellent to make different types of bread for the sandwiches.

“Another, please!”

Good. The boy had learnt how to play the game. Severus turned his attention back to his plans for sandwiches, ignoring the gasps.

When Lucius pushed the last needle into place, he couldn’t have been more relieved.

The Dark Lord clapped his hands and Severus didn’t allow a single hint of annoyance to cross his face. As much as he wanted Lucius to view himself in greater favour than he actually held, he couldn’t help the twinge of jealously that twisted his heart. Why should Lucius be rewarded with attention and clapping when Severus’s display had not been?

“Wonderful, Lucius,” the Dark Lord said. “I wish I had time to enjoy more of your work, but we must be off.”

Really? Was that level of arse-kissing necessary? What did it mean? Did the Dark Lord know that Severus wanted Lucius to think himself viewed more favourably than he was and thus it was a gift? Was it over the top so as to alert Lucius to the fact that it was a farce? Was it done to show Severus that the Dark Lord did value Lucius and had intended to give him the reward of torture anyway?

Dolohov, who hadn’t said a single word and seemed to have had no purpose other than to witness Lucius’s crowning moment, followed Lucius and the Dark Lord as they left.

Discomposed by the Dark Lord’s odd behaviour, Severus remained on the dais, staring after them for a moment before he remembered he needed to heal Potter. Fortunately, Lucius had removed his needles from Potter, saving Severus the trouble. He fed Potter the usual analgesic mixed with a sedative and healing potion, which the boy gulped down eagerly. When he removed the chains, Potter sagged against him like a limp doll and Severus steadied him with a firm grip on his arm.

_That wasn’t so bad._ No, he had no idea what it had been like for Potter. Who knew how his damaged mind had tried to make sense of his fear. For Severus, that would have been the worst part: terror without conscious reason.

Knowing that Potter would feel better after a bit of sleep, Severus didn’t give him time to reflect on what had happened, but dragged him downstairs to the bathroom. Potter’s legs shook too much for him to get in the tub on his own, so Severus partially lifted him in and turned on the taps.

For a moment, Potter just stood in the shower, staring at his body with unfocused eyes Then his hands jerked. Severus couldn’t tell if the fear or the drugs had taken more control, but Potter cleaned himself as if he wasn’t quite sure where certain parts of his body actually were.

Since Potter hadn’t objected to any of the other forms of familiarity, Severus helped him back out of the tub after he had turned off the water. He’d seen the scrawniness of Potter’s limbs, but he’d never really noticed how thin the boy was until he fully lifted him with ease. Perhaps he should be feeding him more meals - not less.

He set him on the rug and Potter sleepily swiped at a towel. Picking it up for him, Severus picked it up and towelled him off, using magic to help dry him. The black hair stood straight out as a result of the drying spell, the huge mass of hair leaving his thin face haggard.

Severus half pulled, half carried Potter back to his bed, helping him on the mattress. Potter buried his face in the pillow and Severus took that as dismissal. The healing potion would repair the small wounds and Potter would probably object to being touched anymore. As soon as he’d closed the door to the library, he pulled out the mirror. In the morning, he’d know how well the plan worked. He’d have to fix Potter an exceptionally tasty breakfast with plenty of mangoes.

 

 

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	16. Chapter 16

_NoG Chapter to read: 7._

 

 

"He still won't eat."

"I know, but you are in this mess because of calming potions. You won't get out of it by giving him more."

Severus leant back in his chair, not bothering to hide the flash of annoyance he felt at hearing this. "He's moping because of Lucius, not because I drugged him." Never mind that he had been responsible for Lucius getting the opportunity to torture Potter.

Sighing, Albus stroked his beard. "Really, Severus. I shouldn't be explaining this to _you_. Calming potions tempered his ability to feel upset over his predicament."

Who did Albus think he was lecturing? "I'm well aware of that," said Severus, tugging up the sleeves of the old jumper he used as a nightshirt. He hated Muggle clothing, but if he were to survive while posing as one, he needed to be comfortable with them and know exactly which hidden pocket contained which item. "That's why I gave them to him, so that he wouldn't _whinge_ all the time."

"He has the right to mourn his loss of freedom. You've not let him fully experience any of his fear, isolation, anger, or anything else that must be boiling beneath the surface. Allow him to be himself for a while. He's stronger than you think. Give him a week. If he shows no improvement, then give him _small_ doses until he does."

He had to compromise or the conversation would never move. "I'll give him a few days."

Albus nodded and said, "I wasn't able to gather much information on Benjamin Young. His father was a wizard who, after his Muggle wife died of breast cancer, wrote several articles on how wizards should take over the Muggle health care system."

_The ticking of the clock echoed loudly in the room and Severus couldn't breathe or speak for a moment. When he could, he asked, "There's nothing?"_

_The oncologist folded his hands on his desk and smiled kindly at Severus. "We can be certain that she isn't in pain."_

_Twenty-three was far too young to become an orphan. His throat tight, he turned to his mother, to all that remained of his childhood at Spinner's End._

_She smiled at him, triumphant. She placed one small hand on Severus's leg and bent in close as if to share a secret. "I told you I was cursed."_

"Is Harry cold? He's shivering."

Severus glanced at the mirror he'd set off to the side, so that Albus could be certain that Potter still lived without significant injury. In the few minutes since he'd set up the mirror and started speaking with Albus, Potter had thrown off his covers and curled up in a trembling ball.

"I'll check on him." Shrinking Albus's portrait, Severus shoved it in his robes and grabbed the mirror. He headed towards the door and, holding the doorknob, blinked slowly. As he pulled the door open, he retrieved the mirror and glanced in it, pretending to notice Potter's shivering for the first time.

He hurried down to the cellar. Should he alert the Dark Lord to the boy's condition? No, not until he had something to tell the Dark Lord.

When he stepped into the room, Potter didn't react. Not good. He hurried to the side of the bed to see sweat all over Potter's exposed skin and dampness in the crimson sheets beneath him. What could be causing him to sweat so much? A fever? Potter's eyelashes fluttered, the eyelids shifting as the eyes rolled beneath them. This was more than a fever.

He yanked back his sleeve and touched his wand tip to the Mark, putting as much force as he could behind the summons to let the Dark Lord know that this was a situation that shouldn't be left for a Death Eater.

They needed a Healer! He knew nothing about seizures. _Don't panic. Fix each symptom individually. What are the symptoms? Fever._ To be sure, he placed his fingers on Potter's neck. Burning skin and a racing pulse. He needed to cool Potter down.

Not wanting to use magic without any idea what the hell had afflicted Potter, Severus uncurled him enough to scoop him up and carry him into the bathroom. Heat radiated off Potter, piercing even through Severus's thick robes.

As gently as he could, he placed Potter in the tub, only to realise that he couldn't just lay the boy down while the tremors were running through him. They were slight, but he could hit his head, especially if his condition worsened.

Should he cast a water-protection spell on himself and climb in with him? No, he shouldn't use magic around the boy. A softening spell on the tub? No, same problem.

_You idiot!_ What was he thinking? He Summoned a few towels and placed them around Potter's head and shoulders before turning on the shower, careful to aim the water at the boy's torso.

Pulse? Fast, but not dangerously so. Breathing? A bit quicker than normal, but again, nothing that required medical attention. Fever? His skin still remained hot, but not outside the normal range.

What else could he check? Of course! Consciousness.

"Potter?" No response.

"Wake up, Potter."

Nothing. He tried the trick that had worked before when Potter refused to respond. "Harry?" Nothing. Where was the Dark Lord or a bloody Healer? He needed to do something. Fuck this, he _had_ to cast magic on Potter.

" _Rennervate!_ "

Potter's eyelashes trembled and then parted slightly, revealing a small slip of green.

"Potter?"

The eyes blinked, opened, and unsteadily focused on the bathtub before closing again.

At least he was conscious. Perhaps it was an after-effect of the Cruciatus? Nerve damage was the only thing that looked remotely similar to these symptoms. He Summoned the Cruciatus Bath Potion from the cupboard and poured it in the tub. He rolled up his sleeves, grabbing a flannel off the towel rack.

"Potter, if you can hear me, open your eyes."

Nothing. He dragged the flannel over the skinny arms, unable to do more than hope that whatever had afflicted Potter had passed. "Don't be stubborn. Remaining in this state won't help you."

Potter shifted, his head turning towards Severus's face. His eyes slowly blinked open and he held Severus's gaze and whispered, "Whip me."

_I'll do my best to protect you from Lucius._ He couldn't make such a promise, so instead he said, "I can't give you what you want, but I will give you what you need."

Potter shot him a critical look and closed his eyes, his body stilling. Shit! Severus shot out a hand to test his pulse, but the beat was steady and the skin back to its regular warmth. Was that normal?

The wards rippled as the Dark Lord arrived in the kitchen. Rather than greet him, Severus remained with Potter, in case the attack should return. Closing his eyes, Severus focused on the Dark Lord's path through the house and only stood once the Dark Lord reached the door to the library. He walked out to the hallway.

"My Lord." He bowed.

"What happened?" The Dark Lord marched down the hall, the lack of a travelling cloak over his robes suggesting that he had been caught unawares by Severus's summons.

"I'm not certain, my Lord," he answered, preceding the Dark Lord into the bathroom. "I glanced in the mirror a few minutes ago and noticed the boy shivering. I immediately headed down to check on him, only to find him covered in sweat with a fever as well as rapid pulse and breath. I brought him in here and cast _Rennervate_ on him. He woke up, asked me to whip him, then fell asleep. As you can see, his heart rate and breathing have returned to normal, and his fever has abated."

The Dark Lord glanced at Potter, asleep in the tub. "He wanted to be whipped?"

"I assume he meant that he wanted me to torture him rather than Lucius."

The Dark Lord smiled. "Perfect. Remain with him for the next ten hours and keep a close watch on him for the next twenty-four."

_You can't be serious._ "My Lord, some of my potions need my attention."

"Then bring the boy to your lab for a few hours."

A few hours wasn't enough to do everything required to keep the potions progressing at their regular rate. However, one look at the Dark Lord's closed face told Severus that he wouldn't be given any more time.

"I understand." Then, to hopefully speed the Dark Lord's departure, he said, "Thank you, my Lord."

For a moment, the Dark Lord stared at Potter sleeping in the tub, then swept out of the room.

Potter turned on his side and let out a little snore.

Severus grumbled, "The things I do for you..." But despite his annoyance, he carefully lifted Potter out of the tub, laid him on the bathmat, and gently slid off the damp clothing. Potter slept through it all, the eye movements behind his lids normal, and his breathing slow and deep.

Once Potter and his clothes were dry, Severus dressed him and carried him back to his bed, setting him lightly on top of the covers. Potter really should have woken by now. It had been a day since the session with Lucius. Hopefully he wouldn't have to go through this mess every time Potter had been through a difficult torture session.

As he hadn't prepared to spend the next couple of hours in Potter's cage, he had nothing to occupy his time. He opened the door to the library, Summoned a few books, transfigured one of the wooden chairs into a comfortable couch and read through everything he could find on Polyjuice Potion.

After hours of diligent research his eyes burned. This was ridiculous. He refused to waste his time coddling Potter.

He stood, restored the chair, sent the books back to the library, and Summoned Potter's breakfast. He strode to the side of the bed and gave Potter's shoulder a shake. "Wake up."

Potter made a half-conscious murmur.

In a louder voice, Severus said, "Get up, Potter!"

Potter pulled the covers up over his head. Severus yanked them off. He lifted Potter out of bed and pushed him into his chair. "You will eat your breakfast or I will force it down your throat. I have work for you to do today and if you don't eat, you will be even more useless than normal." To prevent Potter from talking back, he left, heading towards the library, where he pulled out the mirror and waited.

After a suitable amount of time had passed, Severus returned to the hallway. "Come here, Potter."

Without any hesitation, Potter padded to the bars and stuck his hands out for the chaining spell. After chaining him and opening the bars, Severus blindfolded him.

"What's this?" Potter's hands shot up, but Severus grabbed the chain.

"You are not to see where I am taking you. Come, I will not harm you unless you misbehave."

To his surprise, Potter didn't voice a single objection but obediently followed behind.

In order to disguise their location, Severus had encased the outdoor walkway in a protective bubble, but made no other precautions, as he doubted they were necessary.

In the lab, he removed the blindfold, seated Potter at a worktable he'd prepared earlier, chained him in place, and grabbed the jar of _Datura inoxia_ seeds. Although rather rare in England, he had already grown a sizeable collection himself and, while he appreciated Sethlans's effort, he had no need of them. He unscrewed the jar and placed one of the seeds in Potter's hand, then cast the viewing spell outside of Potter's range of vision.

Potter stared at it as though it might start moving of its own accord. "What is it?"

"They are seeds of _Datura inoxia_ , more commonly known as Devil's Trumpet," Severus answered. "I had these shipped from Southern California. An exquisitely beautiful yet deadly flower, it was used by the Aztecs for its hallucinogenic properties."

Potter tossed the ball to the table.

Thank Merlin he hadn't given Potter anything he actually cared about! "It won't affect you unless you ingest it," he assured him. "Place five pods in each jar."

"This would go a lot quicker if I had my glasses," grumbled Potter, even as he reached for one of the jars.

No need to tell him Lucius had kept them. "It would, but you don't need them now." Severus swept over to one of his Clone Potions and gave it a stir. His work didn't require much concentration, so he pulled out the mirror and watched Potter outside of the boy's range of vision.

"I think you just prefer me without glasses because I don't look like my dad without them."

It had probably been said in an attempt to pick a fight, so Severus ignored him. Glasses or no glasses, Potter acted too much like his father. As he watched in the mirror, pretending to brew, Potter set each seed carefully in the jars, making no attempt to sabotage the future potions. Was the boy really that guileless? No wonder Albus had done everything he could to protect Potter from the Dark Lord. Potter could never kill anyone - not even the Dark Lord.

Finally, after several minutes, Potter knocked one of the seeds into his lap. Calmly but firmly, Severus said, "Put that back, Potter. If you try to steal any more, I will punish you."

Pulling a face, Potter dumped the seed in an empty jar. Severus waited for a tantrum, but it never came. Instead, Potter returned to his work as though he hadn't stopped it.

Since Potter had decided to behave for once, Severus caught up on his potions duties before returning the boy to his cage without a bit of fuss or fighting. Perhaps his new calming potion was perfect. After all this time, he'd finally found the right dosage.

As the Dark Lord had commanded him to keep an eye on Potter, he remained in the library, checking on Potter in the mirror in between reading lines of his book. Perhaps he should give Potter to Lucius again if he could always have this response, minus that odd affliction. How long had Potter read today? Longer than Severus had ever observed him reading before. Maybe even more than he'd ever read in one day in his entire life.

When dinnertime came, Severus nearly considered waiting until after Potter had finished the book, but who knew how long it would take him, and that skinny frame couldn't be healthy. Walking into the hallway, Severus waited for him to glance up from his book.

And waited.

And waited.

Perhaps he should lock up all his troublesome students and give them to their worst nightmare for a few hours. He cleared his throat.

Potter threw his book to the floor and Severus grabbed his wand.

"I can't believe it! He saved the goat! The goat instead of the girl!"

_"Why would he go through so much trouble only to save the goat? Is he mad?"_

_She tapped her pen against her cheek, her eyes fixed on a beam of sunlight pouring in through the window. "I suppose it was the only true friend he had."_

"This surprises you?"

"And that pervert!" Potter threw up his hands. "'The tomb or my bed.' What kind of choice is that? She's gotta be the sex slave of an ugly old pervert or die. I think I'd choose death too."

Severus strode into the cage and spelled dinner on the table. "She would've been much better off had she agreed to Frollo's terms and then killed him in his sleep."

The green flashed and Potter declared, "She's far too noble and pure to do something like that! You think too much like a Slytherin."

_You say that as if it is a bad thing._ Severus snorted his disapproval. "Noble? I think you mean stupid and short-sighted. You must admit that her death was no other fault than her own."

Potter whirled to face him as if he had been personally insulted. "What? How is it her fault? Frollo was the one who stabbed Phoebus and got her charged with murder! Yeah, she was stupid to care so much about Phoebus who treated her like dirt, but she couldn't help it. She was in love."

Love. The Gryffindor excuse for everything. How they valued love without ever acknowledging its destructive powers was beyond him. "You excuse her behaviour on account of love but do not do the same for Frollo?"

Glaring, Potter argued, "It's different! Frollo didn't care about her at all; he just wanted her as if she was an object or something. Esmeralda was innocent and truly loved Phoebus."

Typical. The beautiful girl had been given absolution, but not the dark, ugly man. "Did she? She fell in love with him based on his appearance and misread his thoughts and intentions nearly every time they interacted. She loved him for who he appeared to be rather than for who he was. Think of how poorly she treated Quasimodo at first; he was ugly in appearance, but far more innocent and caring than even she. Compare him with his direct opposite, Phoebus, her love, who was perfect in form yet corrupt within."

"Like Dobby and Draco," murmured Potter.

"Dobby and Draco?" Draco could hardly be said to be corrupt. Unlike his father, he could never kill a man.

Potter turned pink. Odd, that. He gave a little shake of his head and said, "Never mind. So is he trying to say that love is bad or something?"

"No, I don't believe that is the intent of the book at all. It speaks very highly of familial love for example." Should he move the conversation? This day had gone better than he expected. He and Potter were engaging in a normal conversation! Who knew when this opportunity would come again. Time to try to shift Potter's thinking. "I think the message you should take from this book is that, contrary to what others have repeatedly told you, love is not always a positive force-"

"But-"

Severus quieted him with an upheld hand. "I assume you are about to argue that what the characters feel is not true love." At Potter's nod he continued, "Yet, when we try to make such distinctions we run the risk of dismissing love completely. Do you feel that your love for your parents is less than your love for your friends because you've never met your parents and don't know them personally?"

Darkness crossed Potter's face and Severus prepared for a fight. Instead, Potter said, "No, of course not."

It was working. _Tread softly._ "Love saved you and gave you power through that scar, but it also has the potential to destroy you and the ones you love even when your love is 'true' as you would say."

Narrowing his eyes, Potter said, "You think I shouldn't love?"

Too much too soon. "No, of course not. Just imagine if, in order to destroy the Dark Lord, you'd be required to sacrifice one of your loved ones. Take Miss Granger, for example. If she told you that she needed to sacrifice her life in order that the Dark Lord would be destroyed and the war brought to an end, you would try to stop her, correct?"

"Of course I would! I'd do anything! There would have to be some other way to stop him."

Such a martyr. He really couldn't be blamed entirely though, he had been raised as one. "And your reluctance would damn countless other individuals, including your remaining friends. Your love for her would cause you to fail, and the result would be evil."

"That's not going to happen." Potter stared at Severus suspiciously. "Is it?"

"Perhaps." Better to stop now when the boy still remained open to his words. He left for the kitchen, where he cooked their meals whilst watching Potter. Although he doubted the boy who was the epitome of Gryffindor could be made to think more like a Slytherin, and Potter did need to sacrifice himself willingly, Severus had to be sure that, when the time came for sacrifice, the boy gave his life to destroy the Dark Lord, not to save one of his little friends or other such nonsense. Albus had been so busy teaching the boy the concepts of sacrifice and love, he hadn't realised what a martyr he'd created. No, if Potter were to die, his death would have meaning. Severus would make sure of that.

It had been twenty-four hours since Potter's strange illness and Severus realised he needed to sleep, as it had been a couple of days since he'd had more than just a few hours. He retired to his room and fetched Albus's portrait.

"What was wrong with Harry?"

Severus set up the mirror for Albus. "Nothing as far as I could tell. He recovered after I cast _Rennervate_. I ought to sleep. Warn me if anything should happen."

"I will."

A full night's sleep (full for him, anyway) left him refreshed and eager to start the day. Really, with his improved calming potions and the mild sleeping potions, dealing with Potter wasn't bad at all. For the first time since he'd been locked up with Potter, the thought of interacting with the boy didn't fill him with dread. He retrieved the mirror, returned Albus to his pocket, and headed off to his lab to work.

As he slowly added muscle-growth potion to one of the cauldrons containing his Clone Potion, he noticed odd shaking in Potter's limbs in the mirror. Another attack? It didn't look quite like it, but he needed to give the boy breakfast soon, so he decided to investigate.

Shoving the mirror back in his robes, he finished his task and hurried back to the house, rushing down to the cellar.

As he strode into the hallway, he could hear Potter muttering something.

"What was that, Potter?"

Potter lay still in bed, his head buried in his pillow.

"Are you hurt, Potter?"

The messy black head lifted, revealing a reddened face, although the brow remained free of sweat. The bits of pale white skin not covered by clothes likewise seemed free of sweat. "No, no, I'm fine. I just, um, I was thinking that I should wash my clothes. Got any soap for them?"

_Liar_. Since when did a teenage boy offer to do chores? "I will take care of it, just give them to me."

"I'd rather do it myself."

What was he planning? How could washing his clothes possibly lead to an escape attempt? Did he seriously expect that he might be allowed in the laundry room? Pretending he had no idea of Potter's plotting, Severus said, "I am quite certain you would end up making a mess. I'll wash them while you are taking your bath if your nudity concerns you."

Nodding, Potter said, "Okay, but I'd like a bath now, before breakfast."

"Very well." Severus clutched Albus's wand with his left hand. He'd be ready for this escape attempt. He stepped back and let Potter precede him to the bathroom, keeping a close eye on him every step of the way.

Curious as to how Potter planned to execute this attempt, Severus discreetly cast the viewing spell on the bathroom ceiling, gathered Potter's clothes and left, placing wards over the bathroom door. His eyes on the mirror as he headed to the laundry room, he watched Potter bathe, paying close attention to all his actions.

Potter hunched over, his right hand slipping towards something near his stomach. Unfortunately, Severus hadn't positioned the spell directly above the tub and, with Potter's back blocking most of his body, Severus couldn't tell what he was doing. Hurriedly, he cleaned the clothes with spells, then returned to the bathroom.

Determined to conceal whatever it was he was hiding, Potter stuck his face in the water. He jerked his head up, water flying everywhere and yelled, "I'm fine! I'm fine!"

Discreetly, Severus tried to look between his legs to see the contraband that had been taken, but saw nothing but skin. He certainly wasn't going to stare _there_. He'd wait to see what was hidden when Potter stood.

Potter's face hadn't gotten any less red. "Err . . . I was just . . . rinsing my hair. Um . . . could you hand me a towel, please?"

What in the bloody hell was going on? What on earth could he possibly be hiding? All the toiletries had been on the sink, hadn’t they? Severus grabbed a towel and handed it over.

Potter climbed out of the bath, using the towel to conceal his groin. Whatever he had, it was under the towel. Severus pretended to be ignorant of it as he walked Potter back to his cage, sent his clothing to the bed, and Summoned breakfast. Once back in the cage, Severus decided to try a different way of approaching the situation. Although he longed to go over and rip the towel away, if he expressed concern for Potter, the boy might come to trust him sooner.

"You've been acting strangely all morning."

Too curtly, Potter said, "I'm fine." He tucked the towel in on itself and scratched the back of his head. Unless he'd shoved the object in his arse, he didn't have it under his towel. Maybe he'd planted something in the bathroom? Severus left to take a look.

No, nothing in the tub. Damn! He should've reinstalled the viewing spell in the cage! He crept back over and peered in.

Potter was bent over the toilet, his hand working between his legs.

_Those_ movements Severus knew all too well. _Again?!_ Ugh! One minute the boy was near death, the next minute he couldn't keep his hands away from his crotch. Teenagers!

"Oh, fuck!!"

Severus cast the viewing spell as he rushed out of the hallway. He did not need to see or hear any more of _that_! Hopefully Potter had finished for the day. Maybe he should slip something into Potter's food to kill his libido.

 

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	17. Chapter 17

  
Author's notes: Severus's POV of the epic Nights of Gethsemane. When the Dark Lord captures Potter, Severus is forced to do his best to protect Potter whilst remaining in the Dark Lord's favour.

* * *

Since Potter had been so well-behaved, Severus decided to implement Albus's advice and skip the calming potions entirely. Of course, after he had forgone them, he received a note from the Dark Lord stating that Lucius would visit his lab in a few hours.

Severus didn’t bother pulling out the portrait as he had no desire to conduct the same pointless argument with Albus over telling Potter about Lily He prepared his lab for Potter's visit and added a few drops of a calming draught to Potter's dinner. He'd have to order more mangoes. 

Although the cage was the last place he wanted to be whilst Potter was curled up in his bed and pouting, he needed to have the boy in the lab before Lucius arrived. Grumbling to himself about the pointlessness of his new duties, he walked into Potter's cage and spelled food on the table. Potter didn’t move, the pout seemingly permanently etched on his face. "Why are you wearing such an expression?" There. He could be nice.

"I feel like Syphilis," said Potter with a straight face.

What in the bloody hell did that mean? Was he trying to say he was sick? He didn't actually have syphilis, did he? Wouldn't the Healers have noticed that? He arched an eyebrow at Potter and asked, "Excuse me?" 

Potter gave him a look as if he were daft. "That guy who had to push a stone up a mountain every day only to have it roll back down after it got to the top."

Oh. "Sisyphus." Severus somehow managed to avoid insulting Potter.

"Yeah, him." Potter nodded, his lower lip trembling.

Oh Merlin. Was he going to cry? Maybe Severus should just Obliviate him and pretend he'd never gone in the cage...

"He had to do it and every time he knew it was going to be painful, but he had no choice. It feels the same when I have to go get tortured. I know what's coming, but there is nothing I can do to stop it." His head drooped, thankfully concealing his pouting expression from Severus's eyes.

As much as Severus wanted to call him a whinging prat, he'd promised both Albus and the Dark Lord that he'd play nice with the boy. Since he doubted he could say anything without being sarcastic or insulting, he needed to find another way to communicate. He needed a book. He strode out of the cage and into the library. Didn't someone have another take on Sisyphus? Camus.

He grabbed the book and returned, thrusting it into Potter’s hands. 

Sighing, Potter shook his head. "I don't want-"

"There is an essay in here about that myth. Read it." As it would probably take the idiot a few minutes to read the essay Severus returned to the library and glanced over his Muggle titles. What book best said, 'Shut up and take charge of yourself?' He needed something where sacrifice was regarded with derision rather than admiration, where intelligence, cunning, and planning were held in higher esteem than blind sacrifice.

As he read over his titles, he glanced periodically at the mirror, watching Potter as he read. When Potter slammed the book shut and threw it away from him, Severus shoved the mirror in his pocket and returned to the cage. If Potter threw one book, he could throw another, and if he threw Lily's book, Severus would hurt him.

"I don't get it!" Potter pouted. "He used so many words I didn't understand and said that Sisyphus should be happy. How can he be happy about being tortured? He's crazy. I'm never going to be happy about being hurt!"

Complete dunderhead. Did Severus have to spell everything out for him? He stepped into Potter's cage and picked up the book. "You've misunderstood-"

"Yeah, yeah," Potter interrupted. "I'm stupid. I know. Now you are going to tell me how stupid I am and how my dad was stupid, my mum was stupid, my whole family was stupid. And you hated-"

_"Tell him about Lily."_ He couldn't resist, he had to defend her. Quietly, he said, "Your mother was not stupid."

"What?" The anger disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Potter gazed at him with curiosity.

Severus had told the Dark Lord he wanted Lily for revenge against James, and surely some of the Death Eaters knew that Lily and he had been friends in the past. He lost nothing by revealing his early friendship. If anything, he could tell the Dark Lord he intended to play it up to earn Potter's sympathy. Looking at the book rather than _her_ eyes, he said, "Your mother was a highly intelligent and gifted witch. It was she who nurtured my love of the classics. I was certainly never exposed to them at home or at school."

Potter said nothing.

Finally. Silence and calm. Severus sat down. Maybe he could actually teach the boy something useful? "In fact, I've come to believe that Hogwarts is in desperate need of courses that are chiefly concerned with the classics and logic. Wizards are taught to do, but not to think."

"Most wizards don't have an ounce of logic," said Potter, looking at Severus as though he'd never seen him before.

Potter thought of that himself? Interesting. Who knew the boy could think? 

"That's what Hermione said when we got to your logic puzzle with the potions while trying to save the Stone. She said that most wizards would have been unable to get past it because they don't know that kind of stuff."

Of course. If Granger hadn't been shepherding Potter through most of his classes, he'd never have gotten through them. Never mind that Granger herself needed to learn how to think instead of regurgitating the words of others. Perhaps Potter would finally pay him the same attention. "Miss Granger was correct. Rhetoric and action have always held far more sway in the wizarding world than reason. Compared to Muggles, there is frighteningly little interest in critical thinking and scientific exploration in our world. What is magic? How does it work? What causes people to be born with the ability to use it? It is obviously tied to genetics, but other than that, no one knows. The reason there are no wizarding universities is because very few wizards care to think about these issues, much less try to solve them. Creating potions and spells is rather easy - I made several of both during my years at Hogwarts through a simple knowledge of the fundamentals of magic and application of logic. Yet very few wizards ever use anything beyond what they are taught in school, which isn't much and has not changed for hundreds of years.

"I am told that Muggles update their science books every five years to keep up with discoveries and that some books are out of date the minute they go to press. The Muggle world is full of creativity and a desire to push the current bounds of knowledge beyond their limits, yet our world clings to tradition. The potions book you used last year was fifty years old, yet still current because no real advancements have been made in potions for the last hundred years or so."

Potter hadn't interrupted so far, his quiet attention far more than Severus had received from him at any point in the past. Time to push Potter’s beliefs a little. "I think that the student population is purposefully kept in the dark on these issues so that they may be controlled. Knowledge is power, after all, and an undereducated population is much easier to manipulate. The Ministry and those in charge fear educating students on logic and independent thought because Muggle-raised wizards who do not lose this thirst for knowledge can become the most powerful of our kind."

Potter asked, "Is that why Voldemort was able to take over?"

_Do not say his name._ He had to bite his cheek to stop himself from uttering the rebuke. Earlier he'd decided to let it go to test whether the Dark Lord would react to Potter's use of his name.

"Yes," Severus answered, "and why he will never be destroyed using conventional methods." A seed planted. That should be enough for the time being. Too much and Potter would start questioning. He stood. "Now, we have work to do."

Without any sort of fuss, Potter followed Severus to the potions lab and started on the busywork Severus gave him.

Watching Potter in the mirror and out of the corner of his eye, Severus worked on his potions until the wards rippled, indicating someone had Apparated to the landing at the entrance to the potions lab. Lucius. Severus pretended he remained unaware of his visitor, although he shifted slightly, moving enough that he had a good range of attack and was protected by the worktables.

Lucius strode down the steps into the room and dropped a box of potion supplies on one of the worktables. "What is _he_ doing here? And you've given him clothes?"

The colour fled from Potter's face and he hunched over his work as though his chores made him invisible to Lucius.

Refusing to rise to the bait, Severus said, "I decided to put him to work. I observe him the entire time he is here and he is never allowed to touch anything of importance."

Lucius smiled like a fox who'd caught scent of a hare. "The Dark Lord will hear of this, Severus."

In an amused tone, Severus asked, "Are you threatening me, Lucius?" He continued his work, as though Lucius's interruption wasn't worthy of any of his attention.

"No, merely informing. However," Lucius took a few steps closer to Potter, who remained frozen in place. "I would not be surprised if he deigns to give the boy to a more worthy master." His gloved hand stroked down Potter's back, making the boy jump and shy away from him. Quickly, Lucius grabbed Potter's neck, making him freeze again. With a twisted smile he said, "I look forward to seeing you again, boy."

Severus ignored him.

Ever one to push his limits, Lucius stroked Potter's left cheek with one gloved finger. "I have something special planned for you."

With Potter's breath increasing at a rapid pace, hyperventilation could strike at any moment. The last thing Severus wanted was to waste his time calming and healing the boy, so he firmly said, "If you are finished, Lucius, I'll have to ask you to leave."

To Severus's surprise, Lucius simply turned and left, as if he had gotten bored of Potter already.

Once Lucius's steps vanished with his Disapparition, Potter's shoulders hunched forward and he sucked in a huge breath. What was it like to fear something without understanding why? Did his mind make excuses? Did it play up all the past interactions and pretend they were something more? 

Since Potter looked exhausted by the ordeal, Severus didn't keep him in the lab as long as he had originally intended. He returned Potter to his cage and treated him kindly when it was time to give him dinner.

When the Dark Lord Apparated into the kitchen, Severus calmly closed the book he had been reading and headed upstairs to meet his Master.

The Dark Lord, flanked by Avery and Lucius, met him in the throne room. His pale face clouded over, he harshly ordered, "Bring Potter up to me, now."

Even though Severus had suggested this course of action, seeing that darkness on the Dark Lord's face shot a spike of ice deep into his gut, and with weights on his shoulders, he turned and headed down to the cellar to fetch the boy. _He's doing exactly what you requested. He's not actually angry at you._

"Potter!" he yelled as soon as he saw the boy. "Strip now!"

To his relief, Potter didn't argue or fight, but did as he commanded, confusion rather than insolence guiding his movements.

Once they had reached the throne room, the Dark Lord said coolly, "Severus, Lucius tells me that you treat the slave as a pet and allow him in your lab."

Lucius arched a contemptuous eyebrow at Severus as if he, himself, were personally responsible for the punishment instead of being nothing more than a tattletale.

Ignoring Lucius, Severus dropped to his knees, bowing low. "I allowed him in my lab, my Lord. I decided to work the slave rather than let him sleep all day."

"Without asking me? _Crucio_!"

Oh fuck, he didn't need to actually cast it! He ground his teeth together rather than to cry out in front of Lucius. He could endure this; the Dark Lord wouldn't keep it up for long. Would he?

"Please!" cried Potter. "I didn't want to, but he made me!"

The Cruciatus lifted, and silence fell over the room, all attention now on Potter. What the hell?

"Please, don't hurt me," Potter begged, his young voice small. "He forced me to go there and help him make poisons to kill my friends!"

" _Crucio!_ " Potter's scream pierced the room. Severus slowly pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the ache of his body. Since when did Potter lie and take pain to protect _him_? He had hoped to be there eventually, but so soon? Did the boy try to sacrifice himself for anyone who showed him the slightest degree of kindness?

The Dark Lord cast _Legilimens_ , and Potter's fingers whitened as he clung to the marble. Did he really think he could keep the Dark Lord from seeing everything?

"You have nothing to fear, Lucius," said the Dark Lord with a straight face while Lucius’s eyes tightened. "Today was the first time the slave visited the lab and he certainly did not enjoy the visit."

Potter, his face turned to the floor, his messy hair shielding his expression from the Dark Lord, gave a fleeting smile. _Idiot_. Thoughtless, reckless child.

"Still..." The Dark Lord turned to Severus, amusement in his eyes. "You should have known better than to make such a change without informing me first."

"Yes, my Lord." Severus bowed low. "I'm sorry, my Lord."

"Avery, take the slave away. _Crucio_!"

Fuck!

The Dark Lord lifted the spell and Severus could only lie on the floor, panting and trying not to scream, while the Dark Lord swept away, Lucius grinning smugly as he followed him from the room.

Once they had left the house, Severus rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes. The Cruciatus could only be cast if the person intended it. Why did the Dark Lord hate him? Was the reality of the curse a sign that the Dark Lord knew some of what he plotted? The Dark Lord couldn't know the whole of it, could he? Severus doubted he'd be alive if that was the case, although really, he shouldn’t be alive anyway.

Once he no longer felt like he was on fire, he pulled himself to his feet.

The door opened and Avery stepped into the room. "Really, Severus. I'm surprised you made a mistake like that."

_It wasn't a mistake._ Severus straightened his back. "The Dark Lord had commanded that I keep Potter in my view and finish my brewing. I'll need to write him to see what he prefers."

Shaking his head, Avery gave a grimace of pity. "You work yourself too hard. Talk to the Dark Lord. I'll watch the boy for a few days. It'll be fun."

"He's not allowed to be hurt outside of the Dark Lord's presence," Severus said as he wiggled his fingers, glad to have the feeling restored to normal.

"Pity, that." Avery adjusted his travelling cloak. "Still, I'm sure it would be more entertaining than some of the rubbish my father asks me to do. I'll never get a chance in the throne room at this rate."

"Send me a list of your tasks," Severus offered. None of them could be that difficult and if he could somehow set it up so that Avery was granted the Dark Lord's favour, who knew what Avery would do to repay him? Maybe Narcissa could help? She'd proven herself quite the ally with the extent of her networking skills. If he could have Albus plant vague information for her to find on a possible Order hideout, then have Avery head there to discover plans supposedly left behind in a hasty departure, that should be enough to earn the Dark Lord's favour.

A genuine smile spread across Avery's face. "If you did that, I would go to the New World myself to collect your ingredients."

He wouldn't. He was far too lazy. Still, he'd do something.

"I need to meet my father now," Avery said reluctantly.

"Bring me everything you can tomorrow evening," Severus told him.

Avery nodded and left.

Severus headed to the bedroom to prepare himself a bath to counteract any lingering effects of the Cruciatus. He needed his hands to be steady to brew properly. If he could give Avery an evening with Potter and Avery behaved himself, then perhaps the Dark Lord would allow him to have temporary control of Potter whilst Severus did more work with the other lab. Avery was an absolute sadist, but he wasn't clever at all, and he wouldn't scare Potter like Lucius had.

After he'd had his bath, he headed down to visit Potter. He couldn't let the boy believe that he had fooled the Dark Lord with Occlumency. It was too dangerous for both of them. Not to mention, even if Potter had somehow managed to keep the Dark Lord out of his head, he would have given himself away with his little smirk.

Since Potter had proven that he regarded Severus as an ally in the throne room, Severus didn't bother hiding any of his annoyance. He needed Potter to understand just how idiotic he had been.

"Good morning." Potter smiled. The cat that got the cream.

"You little fool." Severus pulled Potter out of bed toward him and shook him. "Do you have a brain in that thick skull of yours, worthless child? Of all the wizards who act without thinking you have to be the worst!"

"What the hell?" Potter pushed away from Severus, the smugness gone. "He would've tortured you even more if I hadn't intervened!"

"You are a terrible Occlumens!"

"I wasn't last night!"

Severus grabbed him again. "Only because you got lucky, you stupid boy! If he had cast while torturing you he would've known in an instant!"

"I kept him from knowing the truth!"

"Try to stop me from viewing last night!" Severus pushed in and saw the night before swimming around in Potter's memories. He released his grip on Potter's arms and the boy crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath.

"That's what I thought. You imbecilic-"

"Then train me!" Potter pleaded. "I can learn!"

_You impossible child. You should have learned when you had the chance. Do you think I enjoyed wasting my time on your Occlumency lessons?_ He had pushed the limits of what he could do before Potter's anger would return in full force, so he kept his thoughts to himself and Summoned food. "I doubt it, Potter," he said once he felt he could speak without insulting Potter every other word. "Even if you _trained to shield your mind every single time you felt pain or were in an emotionally charged situation_ , you still wouldn't learn." He left, hoping Potter had heard his message and taken it to heart.

Upstairs, he headed to his bedroom for a much-needed chat with Albus.

"I'd like you to help me grant Avery the privilege of torturing Potter when the Dark Lord next visits me."

"That will be in...." Albus counted on his fingers.

Portraits had trouble keeping track of time and most of them simply didn't bother. "Two days at the earliest. I'd like to find another individual to guard Potter, allowing me-"

Albus stared at him, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Surely not Avery?"

"I know he has . . . issues, but the Dark Lord has forbidden him from harming Potter whilst guarding him, and I can always insist that the boy is to be kept asleep most of the time. Avery might be a little over-enthusiastic about torture, but he won't disobey the Dark Lord's express orders."

Darkly, Albus said, "If your replacement must be one of your old school mates, then Mulciber is a much better choice."

Did he really think that this was about that? "I did not choose him because he was one of the few people who treated me kindly at Hogwarts, but because he's one of my few allies at the moment. Do you think it easy for me to perform all my duties whilst confined here? Besides, if we can remove two Horcruxes at the same time, we will be much better prepared. If I am away, there is a chance that I can find Nagini."

"You are under constant supervision every time you leave. How could you possibly find Nagini?"

"By using Legilimency on Death Eaters who are not given access here. There are many who are high enough to provide clues, but not high enough to be allowed in the prison. There are also many high-ranking individuals I have never seen here. I suspect that one of them holds the answer."

Sighing, Albus adjusted his glasses. "I don't like the risk to Harry. Besides, how can you work on forming a relationship with him if you leave him?"

Oh yes, Albus hadn't heard what had happened earlier. "The boy lied to the Dark Lord to protect me."

Albus's smile was triumphant. "I told you he has a big heart."

"You've made a martyr of him." 

"I did nothing to change his nature."

Severus didn't believe that for a second. "Avery may be sadistic, but he's also rather thick, and he won't hurt Potter nearly as much as Lucius or some other clever Death Eater. Besides, I need powerful allies now that I can’t count on Lucius anymore. Help me secure Avery this favour."

Albus shook his head. "He's dangerous."

For all that Albus expected Severus to do, he certainly didn't give him many options. "I _need_ powerful allies. If he receives the Dark Lord’s favour, I'll give him a list of allowed tortures, and never let him near the boy again if he even attempts to stray from it. If he behaves himself in the throne room, I'm sure he'll behave himself for a day, especially if I keep Potter unconscious the entire time I'm gone."

"Very well," sighed Albus. "But you mustn't leave Avery alone with Harry without my consultation."

It was such an easy compromise to make, Severus did it without hesitation. He could always arrange it later without Albus ever being the wiser.


	18. Chapter 18

"Severus, go see what Avery has done to cause the boy pain."

Great. Severus couldn’t leave Potter alone with Avery if the Death Eater couldn’t keep from hurting him for the few seconds it took to drag him out of bed and haul him up to the throne room.

Sighing to himself, Severus trudged down the stairs.

As Severus stepped into the library, a desperate scream tore through the air. _Avery, what have you done?_ His heart in his stomach, he ran into Potter’s cage.

Avery was crouched over Potter, his hand between the boy’s legs.

_"I let Malfoy and Avery get to me."_

_"Avery?" Severus asked, puzzled. What could Avery have possibly done other than give him rude looks?_

_"Yeah." Potter’s gaze focused on the rug._

"Get off of him, Avery."

Grumbling, Avery released Potter and left the bed. He slid his knife back into his robes and covered up his half-hard cock. "If our Lord insists that I do it in front of him, then I’ll do it there." He winked at Severus and left.

He wouldn’t really do that, would he? He might have just said that to worry Potter.

_Avery casually asked, "Have you been raping him?"_

Potter made a small noise and Severus realised he was bleeding. A bite mark on a nipple and a small cut on his perineum. Automatically, Severus healed the injuries, knowing that more would be given soon.

His head swam and he couldn’t think, the pounding of his heart sounded so loud. If it were any other Death Eater he would have given Potter over, but not to Avery; even without the matter of the Wizard Pox, he couldn’t let Avery have Potter. He’d seen a few of Avery’s other victims.

_"C’mon, Severus," Avery pleaded. He yanked on the Muggle’s hair and she screamed. "Don’t be such a sourpuss. Give it a go." He threw the girl to the floor near Severus’s feet._

_"Help me," she said, her small hands reaching for his boots._

Severus freed Potter from his chains. He couldn’t stop Avery. He could try to reason with him, but once Avery wanted something, he didn’t stop until he took it. Severus could appeal to the Dark Lord that rape wasn’t on the list of acceptable tortures he’d given Avery, but Avery would just promise to reduce Potter’s physical pain. Of course, to Avery, reducing Potter’s physical pain would entail fucking him with a single sharp edge rather than multiple. How could Avery want to rape Potter? He was just a skinny little boy.

Severus tucked his wand back in his robes. What could he do? Maybe he should just allow it to happen and give Potter another monster? He’d have to make sure Lucius would never be allowed near the boy again, and it would take some work to calm him down afterwards, but Potter would never blame _him_ for the rape. How could he? It wasn’t as if Severus had known this would happen....

"Thank you," said Potter.

Merlin, he was just a child.

"Don’t." What if he raped him himself? What sort of choice was that? The Lady or the Tiger. If he were to stop Avery, he needed some sort of excuse. Would the Dark Lord even allow him to take Avery’s prize? Fucking hell. He shouldn’t have to make this choice. He had to. He chained Potter’s wrists and pulled him to his feet. "The Dark Lord is waiting." Unable to do anything else, he led Potter up the stairs, his stomach tight, ready to empty its contents at any moment.

_Forgive me,_ he told her. _You know I would have never touched him._

In the hallway, Severus remembered he had to try to keep Potter’s friendship. Somehow, after this horrible evening had passed, he had to regain Potter’s trust. He paused, gripped Potter’s upper arms, and wished the boy knew Legilimency so he could convey to him that, if it had been up to Severus, what was about to come to pass would never have happened.

Damn it! If only he had had the wit to grab Avery in the library and try a mind spell on him then! He should never have let him just leave for the throne room. God fucking damn it, how could he have been so bloody stupid!? Worthless. Why was he always so worthless when it came to protecting what really mattered?

Potter stared at him with those vividly green eyes, the eyes he’d given his life for, and he gave the only bit of explanation he could without risking all that he had done. "Starry vere."

"What?" Potter wrinkled his nose exactly the way Lily had when she’d thought Severus particularly daft.

If only he’d been given time! If only he didn’t have that damned mark on his arm. As it was, he could do nothing but say, "Remember that. Starry vere." He pulled Potter through the door and pushed him towards the middle of the room. 

Avery stood on the dais looking quite pleased with himself while Yaxley spoke softly with the Dark Lord. Turning to the Dark Lord, Severus said,

"Avery got started without us, my Lord."

"He looked so tasty in the bed. I assure you that I was going to bring him up before I did anything serious."

Severus bowed and said, "My Lord, may I ask a favour?"

As far as he knew, it was the first time anyone had dared to ask such a thing in front of others and silence fell over the room.

"A favour, Severus?" The tone was harsh, but Severus thought he detected a bit of curiosity beneath the surface.

This better work. Severus took a deep breath and said, "Yes, my Lord. I regret having angered you, and I understand that your wrath was well-deserved. I’d like to make that up to you by taking something for you, the act of which I think you will enjoy immensely."

"And what is that?"

"Harry Potter's virginity."

The Dark Lord laughed.

"Severus!" Avery hissed, rounding on him. "It is my turn tonight!"

Never again would Avery gift him with potion ingredients. He looked at one of the few men who had ever treated him as an equal, worthy of alliance, and said, "You attempted to do it in private, denying our Lord the pleasure of it. You will also give him your disease and no one else will be able to use him after you."

"How dare you!" Avery whipped out his wand. "I came to you for a cure in private!"

"Enough!" commanded the Dark Lord. "Severus, I am still angry with you for your earlier behaviour." He glared down at Severus, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it.

"Yes, my Lord, I am sorry, my Lord." Snape lowered his head to the floor again.

"However, Avery just committed an equal sin. And of my servants, you have been the most faithful and have given me the greatest gifts. The only reason I give this gift to you now is because I know that you have never deliberately sought to conceal your behaviour from me as most of my followers have. For your honesty and loyalty I grant you this reward."

Behind the Dark Lord, Avery’s mouth hung open, although he quickly shut it, glaring at Severus across the room. 

How many times had Severus dreamt of hearing those words! His heart filled despite the horror he would soon be forced to unleash, and he stood and said, "Thank you, my Lord. I will never forget this, my Lord." Not wanting to hurt the boy any more than necessary, he Summoned a pillow from one of the sofas, transfiguring it into a mattress.

With sudden quickness, Potter jumped to his feet and darted towards the door. Severus cast the rope spell as he pulled off his outer robe and tossed it to side. He dragged Potter back towards him and physically picked him up, ignoring Potter’s yelling and flailing as he carried him to the pillow. He had to make it look right.

Potter’s struggles knocked up his left sleeve and teeth tore his flesh. He ignored the pain, focusing on tying him securely in place. He grabbed his outer robe and transfigured it into a nasty-looking rope that he snaked around Potter’s neck. Despite appearances to the contrary, the soft cloth wouldn’t hurt him unless he deliberately tried to choke himself.

With Potter tied securely in place, Severus stared at the struggling bared arse before him. His dick hung limp in his pants, the sight of the pale flesh no more erotic to him than any other part of Potter’s young male body. Not only would he have to become erect in front of others, but they’d watch him having sex.

_The girl hissed, "I bet this is the only way you’ll ever get laid."_

Forcibly tearing his thoughts from that moment, Severus concentrated on Emma, the last girl he’d had. Delightfully curvy, with the nicest arse he’d seen in person, she’d sucked him off perfectly. Severus undid his buttons as he cast the spells he’d thought he would never use again, " _Aveho sordes! Oleum!_ "

_Concentrate on how tight it will be. How hot. Think about that delightful slide of flesh on flesh._

He had to do this. He had to stay hard. If he failed now, Avery would take his rage out on the boy. He worked his hand over his rapidly hardening prick, amazed that he managed an erection, much less to maintain it. His eyes looking at the arse before him, his mind on Emma, he pressed up against the hole and pushed.

It would never work. It was too tight.

He had to do this.

He pressed one hand flat on the top of Potter’s waist, holding him in place as he pushed forward again, stroking his cock to keep it hard.

_She’d swallowed. She’d sucked down his spunk, her hand still working over his cock as she...._

Slowly, terribly, the tiny ring opened for him, the fierce clench of it sliding up his shaft as he pushed his way inside.

_Merlin, yes. Nice and warm. Very, very tight. Think about the tightness. Think about how good it feels to be inside another person. How Emma’s pussy gripped you tightly, her-_

Potter made a noise like a wounded, dying animal.

_No. You must do this. Think of how good it feels. Think about James, how you’d like to torture James._

His prick started to deflate. Shit. Revenge fantasies wouldn’t work. He had to imagine it was somehow consensual. _Emma. Her tits. How it felt to come inside her._

His mind full of breasts and pussy, imagining a woman’s arse on his dick, he somehow managed to keep his erection for what seemed like forever. He didn’t dare look up at the Dark Lord, imagining disgust on the alien face mixed in with the enjoyment of Potter’s pain. The Dark Lord had once said that only fools allowed lust to control their actions and had implied he appreciated that Severus had risen above that.

_Bloody hell_. He couldn’t keep this up. Hopefully the show had been long enough. He pulled out of Potter’s arse and, with a hand pressed into his taint, his other working over his cock, he non-verbally cast, _Sacrium_ and his cum spattered over the pale skin of the boy’s back. He shuddered, pretending to have orgasmed. He’d finished. It was over.

Cleaning the blood off his prick, he tucked it back in his robes, fastened himself up, and stood. He freed Potter from his bonds and fetched his cloak, restoring it and returning it to his shoulders as he walked to stand before the Dark Lord, and, summoning his courage, raised his head.

The Dark Lord wore an undisguised smile without any trace of disappointment, Avery glared at Severus, and Yaxley looked down his nose, his lips twisted with revulsion.

_Fuck you, Yaxley. This wasn’t my idea._

"Wonderful," said the Dark Lord. "I’ll be eager to see what you have to give me next."

Severus doubted he could ever repair his relationship with Potter, but he had to try. "I’m delighted you enjoyed the display, my Lord." He bowed.

The Dark Lord waved to the others to follow him as he left.

Potter remained on the mattress, unmoving, the red stain beneath his legs slowly growing.  
Merlin, he’d done that. He’d raped a student. He’d assaulted a child.

No. This was no time to get emotional, he had to focus. He needed to do everything in his power to repair what had just been done. How could they ever return things to the tentative camaraderie that had been building between them? If Potter hadn’t hated him before, he certainly did now.

One thing at a time. First, he had to heal him.

Severus approached him, expecting to be attacked. He didn’t care if Potter hurt him. He knew he deserved it. When Potter didn’t object to being pulled to his feet, Severus walked him back to his cage. It wasn’t until Potter stumbled near the stairs and Severus glanced down, seeing the trail of blood, that he realised how much the boy must hurt.

" _Mobilicorpus_." He floated him down the stairs, into the bathtub. There, he released the spell and opened the taps, placing Potter’s head at the foot of the tub so that the water wouldn’t fall in his face.

The green eyes stared unblinkingly forward as Potter snatched the soap from its resting place and scrubbed himself as if he thought he could wash away his skin.

When most of the blood had been washed away and Severus was certain that the only injuries Potter had sustained were to his arse, he turned off the water, placed a towel on the edge of the tub and left the room for the library. He fetched _Billy Budd_ and placed it on Potter’s bed before he returned to the bathroom. Inside, he placed a vial on the edge of the tub before moving outside of Potter’s range. "A painkiller and a sleeping potion."

Potter snatched it up and flung it into the wall, shattering it. "FUCK YOU, YOU ARSEHOLE! I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!"

Severus did not doubt that, if Potter had had a wand, he would’ve cast the Killing Curse that instant. Gently, slowly, he opened the cabinet and removed an analgesic and a sleeping potion. He floated them over to Potter, saying, "At least take the one on the right, the painkiller. There is no need for you to be in pain, and I don't want to have to force you." _I never wanted to force you._

"YOU ALREADY DID, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Potter threw the potions at the wall and Severus caught them with magic.

For the first time since Potter had entered the prison, he burst into tears. They weren’t anything like the whiny, self-indulgent tears Severus had always expected to see from Potter. He himself had cried Potter’s tears on the night when he’d heard of Lily’s murder; the night he’d learnt there were some things worse than death.

Potter would never willingly take a potion from Severus’s hand, yet he needed to sleep. To heal. "Immobulus."

Potter fell back like a rag doll and Severus had to quickly transform the tub to a more forgiving surface to protect him from harm. He force-fed him the potions, then returned him to his cage, freeing him from the spell as he walked away.

He walked up to his room, picked up his chair and threw it into the wall so hard, it shattered. He tore off his clothes and took a shower, scrubbing himself down as hard as he could until he tore open skin on his arm.

When he was dry, dressed, and certain he was alone, he repaired his chair, poured the strongest drink he had, and pulled out Albus’s portrait.

As soon as he saw Albus’s robes in the corner of his eye, he said, "I raped him." With shaking hands, he took a drink, his gaze firmly fixed on the wall.

After several heavy minutes, Albus quietly said, "I’m sure you did what you thought was necessary."

He’d expected condemnation, not absolution. It was sick. How could Albus possibly forgive him? "He should be in Hogwarts right now. He’s a _child_. He’s her son."

"I know, Severus," said Albus gently. "I know. I assume Avery tried to hurt him?"

Miserably, Severus nodded. How could he have been so _blind_. He’d seen Avery’s thirst for rape. Why had he ever assumed that only females would be the target of that sick lechery? He quaffed the rest of his drink and refilled his glass.

"You had no way of knowing his intentions."

_"I let Malfoy and Avery get to me."_ Potter had known, somehow. Avery had said something. Why hadn’t Potter said anything? That stupid, stupid boy. If Severus had had any idea Avery had planned to rape Potter, he could have made certain that Avery would have never been given the opportunity.

"This isn’t your fault. If you had known, you would have never given Avery the chance."

"I did it, Albus." _Potter made a noise like a wounded, dying animal._ "I did it. I-" His breath caught in his throat, his chest tight. He had to remember how to breathe.

"Severus, as difficult as this is for you, Harry needs you to help him through this, especially now. You need to focus on aiding him."

Severus sighed. Albus was right. He needed to focus on what could be done now, although at the moment, he couldn’t imagine a single thing he could do. "He won’t want me near him."

"I know, but you’re the only one he has at the moment. No one else has the skill or the knowledge necessary to keep him alive."

"Alive-" Severus choked on the word around his drink.

"Yes," said Albus sharply. "I do not intend to dismiss what has happened to him, but he lives and whilst he lives, there’s hope."

Severus allowed himself a glance at the portrait. "You do realise he must die, Albus."

Albus met his gaze with caring eyes. "There is a chance he could live. He’d want to live. He’s strong. He’ll find his way back from this as long as you help him. Don’t give up on him, Severus."

Potter would find his way to Severus’s doorstep with a knife in hand. Still, Severus had never expected to live long. He planned for it, but he’d seen too much to expect it. He finished his drink and popped one of the analgesics in his upper arm to leave him as comfortably numb as he dared to be. His eyes turned back to the wall, he let Albus talk and remind him of how far they’d come in such a short time. Potter had trusted him. Potter had rushed to his defence. They couldn’t abandon him or the plan now. So much needed to be done. Potter needed him as an ally. No matter how slim the chance that Potter would live, he had to do his best to make sure it remained a possibility.

Someone Portkeyed into the lab and he shoved the portrait into his robes and headed to greet his visitor.

Avery was standing in the lab and Severus’s already queasy stomach jumped. He didn’t want to deal with this now. He couldn’t.

"How could you?"

_How could_ you _?_

No, he had to stay calm, not fly over there and brawl with Avery like a common street hooligan. This was his lab. If he let his anger burst out now, he’d destroy it. He’d destroy everything. _Calm._ He popped open one of the minor calming potions hidden in his leg, marched down the steps and turned to face his former friend. His body was shaking so hard, he could barely get out the words. "I gave you a list explicitly explaining what you were allowed to do to him. He is _mine_ , Avery. You had no right to try to take him from me!"

Avery sputtered. "You said that you didn’t want him!"

"I couldn’t say I did in front of him!"

"He was unconscious."

_Stay calm._ "You don’t know that."

"Bloody hell, Severus, that was my reward and you know it!" Avery slammed his fist into the wall. "You let the Dark Lord shit all over me on _my_ night. After what I did for you! Tell me what I’ve done wrong. I would expect this from one of the others, but not from you. You’ve always been better than that."

_I am better than that!_ "If you had talked to me first, I would have managed it-"

"You revealed my condition to _everyone_."

"Because you didn’t ask permission! You ignored my list. He’s mine!"

"I shouldn’t have to ask permission for that from _you_."

There it was. The heart of the matter. Even though the Dark Lord himself had said that Severus was his most trusted follower, Avery thought he deserved Potter because of his accidental birthright. Severus couldn’t remember the last time Avery had made such a claim, but he knew that this time, there would be no turning back.

_Calm._ He clenched his hands so hard his palms bled.

Avery had to know, in no uncertain terms, this was the end of their friendship. Steeling his voice, he said, "I’ve accomplished enough of my own accord that I don’t require your name to lend credence to my successes. The Dark Lord’s high regard for my work further proves my self-sufficiency. Should you choose to end our friendship over this disagreement, I would not be the one who suffers."

"We’ll see about that!" Avery spun on his heel and marched up the stairs. As he reached the top, Lucius Apparated in. Avery paused, his hand on the wall, and shot a nasty grin at Severus. To Lucius, he said, "You might want to tell the Board that their Headmaster just raped a boy young enough to be a student."

_I will kill you._ He would torture Avery with every single hideous act Avery had ever been said to perform on another person. "Get out! Get out before I kill you!"

Avery vanished.

Smirking, Lucius slowly descended the stairs.

_Calm. You need to stay calm._ Severus turned away from him, pretending to examine his cauldrons for signs of tampering. He couldn’t risk hurting his lab. Revenge would come later. He would tear the world apart then, but now he needed to remain calm.

"My...." Lucius said when he reached the bottom, stepping onto the cobbled stones of the lab. "I suppose it will be necessary to conduct a full investigation into this matter. A man of your . . . tastes would surely not have just a single victim."

In the first half of the war, Lucius was said to have raped a Pureblood girl of seventeen who’d done nothing wrong other than openly dating a Muggle. Refusing to rise to the bait, Severus said, "If you have post for me, leave it on the table. I’m quite busy."

Sweeping into the room, Lucius placed the package on one of the worktables. "What do you suppose I’ll find in the memories of the students? Perhaps I should make an announcement in the Great Hall."

_Stay calm and think._ If he appeared to be ashamed of it or weakened by it, Lucius would make sure every single person in the wizarding world learned of it. Scornfully, Severus said, "Report whatever you like. The Dark Lord enjoyed the show."

Lucius’s face twisted in disgust and he said, "You will never set foot in Hogwarts ever again." He swept from the lab and Apparated away, apparently to inform everyone he could about Severus’s sexual proclivities.

These were not the last visitors Severus had that evening. Benjamin Young Portkeyed in with his regular report. Another youngster brought the latest developments from the other lab. Macnair arrived to deliver a message from the Dark Lord which read, "I look forward to your future shows. I am curious to see how quickly you will regain the boy’s trust even with this new development." The Dark Lord didn’t expect him to continuously rape Potter, did he? The thought of performing such an act for an audience composed of his worst critics on a regular basis made Severus want to be sick all over the floor. Macnair, apparently currently unaware of what Severus had done, drummed his fingers against the table as he waited for a response.

Severus retrieved a piece of parchment and a quill and wrote, "It is only a matter of time, my Lord."

Finally, just when Severus thought he had finished for the night, Narcissa appeared on the landing. She hurried down the steps, but paused before her foot touched the cobblestones of the lab.

"Is it true?" she asked, her voice a mixture of horror and concern.

He couldn’t afford to lose her, especially now that Lucius had greater weapons against him. Setting aside his clippings, he hurried to the front of his lab, so that she might see the earnestness of his expression. "Yes, but in these troubled times we are often forced to choose between what we desire and what must be done."

"No," she said firmly, her head lifting and her lips curling. "There are things for which there is no justification."

"I agree, but if the choice were between death and a lesser evil-"

"Is that what you would try to tell me?" She shook her head. "That you might need to rape my son in order to save his life? Had I known you harboured such disgusting proclivities, I would never have agreed to align myself with you in the first place."

He promised her, "I would _never_ rape your son."

"You’ll never have the chance. I told my husband about our previous arrangement, and he agrees with me that we must do everything we can to be certain you are removed from your Hogwarts post." She turned around and marched up the stairs.

In desperation, he called after her, "I had no choice!"

"Don’t speak to me again." She Apparated away. She’d been his last decent ally.

He couldn’t brew with his hands shaking so much and his stomach churning. Instead, he chugged a calming potion and raided the liquor cabinet. He drank until he felt his senses start to slip away. Standing there, alone, the bottle clutched in his hands, he realised he hadn’t checked on Potter’s injuries since he’d attacked him.

Slowly but steadily, he made his way to Potter’s cage and crept inside. The boy had curled himself up tightly in his blankets, the sleeping potion keeping him unconscious.

As gently as he could, Severus started to unwrap him, only to notice a smear of dark red between his thighs. Blood.

Not wanting to look at the area he’d savagely abused, Severus fed Potter the healing potion orally before cleaning the area with a softly whispered spell.

He couldn’t brew in this state, so he put up wards and went to sleep.

Somehow, he managed to return to his routine the next day: wake, drink calming potions, prepare meals for the day, brew, send and receive morning post, brew, and research. He couldn’t stand watching Potter, so he only glanced at the ruined figure as much as absolutely necessary. Because of that, when he went to bring Potter lunch, the crumbled pieces of paper out in the hallway caught him by surprise.

He picked one of them up and smoothed it out.

Her myth book. Ruined. The first gift she’d ever given him, the only possession of hers he still had, destroyed. A thick buzzing filled his ears. He felt sick, dizzy. One minute he was standing outside the cage, the next he was inside of it, shaking Potter awake. "Do you have any idea what that book was worth?"

Potter blinked at him sleepily, a crooked smile curving his lips. "You deserved it."

Deserved it? _Deserved it?_ Everything he’d done since her death had been for this stupid child. _Everything!_ Severus yanked him up, ready to slam his face into one of the bed posts.

_Tobias shoved mother into the door, where her head hit with a loud ‘crack’._

_"Stop it!" Severus cried. "Let her go!"_

He swore and threw Potter into the bed rather than the table. Potter flailed, kicking his pillow towards Severus. Severus snatched it up. He wanted to shove it over Potter’s face and suffocate him as Potter clawed in desperation at his face and arms. To stop himself, he threw it.

He was trembling, his fingers shaking so hard he fumbled with his wand. He would kill him. He would tear him to pieces. He would make him scream in pain. Potter blinked at him with drugged eyes as Severus screamed, " _Avada Kedavra!_ " and slashed his wand wildly.

An explosion of plastic and water drenched them both. A burnt smudge in the wall indicated where the sink had been.

He grabbed Potter and roughly pulled him to his knees, staring into the boy’s terrified eyes. Through clenched teeth, he said, "When you die, I will enjoy it."

He pushed him back on the bed, repaired the sink, and cleaned the room.

Potter mumbled something with lots of expletives into his sheets. His eyes closed, the sleeping potion still heavy in his system. Severus pried open his eyes, cast _Obliviate_ and punched the bed rather than Potter’s face. He marched from the room to the library.

There he caught his breath and punched the side of a bookshelf. It wasn’t enough. He needed to destroy something. He smashed his right fist over and over into the wood, harder and harder. His fingers cracked with the wood, blood splattering everywhere. The pain multiplied, overwhelming everything with a fierce, honed sting Focusing on it, he clutched his throbbing hand and leant against the shelves, letting the wood dig into his side.

_I can’t live like this. I can’t._

Splaying his fingers, he gritted his teeth and snapped each bone back into place. Nausea rolled over him, so thick he could taste it. He forced it back down and headed upstairs, popping open a healing capsule as he went.

He needed to speak to Albus and see what could be done to hurry things along. This needed to be ended, now.

If it didn’t end soon, he would kill Potter himself.


	19. Chapter 19

_My beta, Hannah, suggested I watch Buffy when sick since I'd never seen the series and it was free on netflix instant view. I love it. My husband and I both think that Spike is the best character._

 

 

Benjamin Young arrived right on schedule.

"Your books, sir," he said rather breathlessly as he clomped down the steps of the potions lab.

Wordlessly, Severus stepped forward and took the package, not letting a hint of embarrassment cross his face. In a quick, fluid motion, he cast a memory modification spell on the boy, changing the subject matter of the books to that of Herbology. "That will be all for now."

Young blinked, bowed, and left.

Severus waited until the time allotted for visitors had passed, then headed for the kitchen. There, after he had cooked lunch and dosed Potter's mangoes, he unwrapped the books he'd ordered on gay sex. If he were to be forced to rape Potter regularly, he would do it as gently as possible. Even if the Dark Lord hadn't forbidden harm to come to Potter, he did not want a repeat of what had happened in the throne room.

As Potter, even plied with calming potions, wouldn't permit him in the same room, he'd have to use additional potions so he would be able to go anywhere near the boy. He pulled out a scroll and wrote, 'Potions', and 'Techniques'. Under potions he wrote, 'Calming Potions', then turned to the first book in his pile for ideas.

_The key to anal sex is relaxation._

That would be difficult. He wrote 'Muscle Relaxant' on the scroll, under the Potions section, along with 'Aphrodisiac' and 'Analgesic'. He refused to consider Love Potions. Potter would be turned even more gormless than usual.

_Begin with gentle touches to the outside of the anus using fingers or your tongue._ His tongue? Not a chance. _If you use your fingers, use lube. Remember, when it comes to anal sex, it is impossible to use too much lube._ To the right of 'Techniques', he wrote 'Lubrication' and underlined it twice.

_Once your partner adjusts to the sensation, carefully insert a single finger, paying close attention to your partner for any sign of discomfort. After insertion, give your partner time to adjust to the first finger before adding a second. If necessary, apply more lube before you add more fingers. Three fingers are normally sufficient to properly open an anus. Some individuals like to use butt plugs or dildos of increasing size. Remember, if you use dildos, make certain to hold onto the dildo the entire time. Unlike the vagina, the anus will swallow items whole, leaving them trapped inside and making them difficult to remove._

Under 'Techniques', he wrote 'One, two, then three fingers. Plenty of lube. No objects.'

He read every single book, but the message was basically the same amongst them: go slow, use lube, and give the anus time to adjust. None of the potions he needed were ones he didn't already have on hand - even the aphrodisiac, which he'd never used before. After fetching the necessary potions from his lab and mixing them into Potter's food, he returned to the lab to perfect the ultimate lube. He needed something with a muscle relaxant and an analgesic mixed into it, but only if he could somehow be certain those properties wouldn't interfere with his erection. Perhaps he could brew a potion that ignored his body or only responded to Potter's? Maybe he could brew a salve to prevent absorption into his penis?

He lacked consent from Potter to any form of sexual activity, but he'd long ago learnt that seemingly insurmountable tasks were best handled one problem at a time. Besides, if everything worked according to plan, he wouldn't need Potter's agreement.

Once he'd finished the lube, he headed to Potter's cage, where he Summoned food and placed a few drops of a wakefulness potion on Potter's lips.

Leaving the cage, he waited in the library until Potter woke, finished his meal, then returned to his bed, the mild sedative kicking in. When what would happen next could be attributed to a nightmare, Severus popped open the mild aphrodisiac potion he'd implanted in his arm and, after closing his eyes, entered Potter's cage.

Potter lay face down on his bed, his breath coming deep and even.

Severus slid off his outer robe, carefully draping it over the chair. He breathed deeply, then pulled the crimson sheet off of Potter's unconscious body. He climbed onto the bed and straddled Potter before gently flipping him onto his back.

Blinking slowly, Potter made a half-snore noise. When his sleepy eyes came into focus on the face in front of him, they widened. Severus had never thought that Potter could look at him with the same terror as he did at Lucius.

"Shhh," he said gently, stroking his fingers through Potter's hair. Unable to look at those terrified eyes, he focused his attention on the body before him that he was somehow supposed to find attractive. "There will be no pain. I don't want to hurt you." He slid his hands down Potter's body and gently worked up the shirt, exposing the small, pale torso.

An odd, small noise filled the air and Severus realised that Potter was trying to speak around the sleeping potion and heavy muscle relaxant. "If you relax, it will be easier. If I don't take you, Avery will." He shifted to the side to work off Potter's bottoms. The aphrodisiac must have been in full effect, for Potter's disproportionately large prick sprang free. For being so unimpressive while flaccid, the boy's manhood more than made up for his small stature.

He spread Potter's limp legs, Summoned the lubrication to himself, and cast the necessary spells. After coating his fingers, he pushed up one of Potter's legs enough to give him access. As carefully as he could, he pressed his index finger up against Potter's anus and pressed inside. With the muscle relaxant and the lube, it sank in easily. Potter made a strangled sound and Severus stared at his fingers. He had to focus. He had to get this done.

Even with the muscle relaxant and the lube leaving the boy so relaxed he could probably slip his cock inside without any pain, Severus carefully worked him open as if he were still a virgin. He waited until three fingers fit easily, then withdrew them to work at his cock. He'd been unable to figure out a way to have the lubrication only act on Potter's body, so even with the aphrodisiac, the numbing properties of the muscle relaxant and analgesic made it difficult to stay hard. Still, with the amount he'd used, he should be able to stay hard, even when he could feel nothing but revulsion.

That was the theory at least. He stroked himself.

And stroked himself.

Bloody hell. He couldn't pump himself full of aphrodisiacs, as they tended to cause mental instability, but nothing about Potter's male teen body appealed to him in the slightest. To pretend his delay had a reason behind it, he cast a shaving spell over Potter's arse crack, removing the dark curls entirely.

Slightly better, but still, the leg hair left much to be desired. When he thought about it, he knew it could be worse. Potter could have been one of those men afflicted with carpets of chest and back hair. Other than the small sprinkle on his chest, Potter's torso remained blessedly free of hair, except for the axillary and groin regions. Still, even if Potter had kept himself as shaved as a licentious woman, the flat chest and thick cock and balls made it very difficult to transpose a scrumptious female body over the scrawny male one.

Shit, he should have thought this out better. He couldn't exactly flip Potter over, not with the muscle relaxant. He could tie him, but he would have to be extremely careful, as with the level of drugs in Potter's body, the boy might not even be able to hold his head up straight.

In his distraction, he glanced up at Potter's face. Fear. More than he'd ever seen before. He blackened the eyes with " _Obscuro!_ ".

How was he ever going to get through this?

Maybe if he gave Potter pleasure this would feel less like rape. Gingerly, swallowing back his revulsion, he wrapped his left hand around the reddened prick. He'd never touched another penis before and it felt odd - wrong - in his hand even though he knew, logically, it matched his own. Slowly, he pulled down the foreskin the rest of the way, revealing the thick head. The noise emerging from Potter's throat sounded more encouraging than any he'd heard so far, so he moved his right hand over his own cock as he worked Potter's, replicating the actions he liked.

It didn't take long. He'd given the boy a heavy dose, and a few good strokes were all he needed before Potter's cock pulsed in his hand and semen spattered out on Potter's torso.

Success!

He tugged more firmly on himself and, once he was hard and lubed enough, pushed his way inside Potter's arse.

Although he had used plenty of lube and fingered him, he still moved slowly, not wanting to cause the boy any pain. Once he'd buried himself balls deep, he glanced at Potter's torso, intending to watch his chest for signs of breathing problems. Instead, he caught a glimpse of Potter's face.

Light reflected off the moisture running down the side of Potter's cheek, catching on his ear and pooling on the sheet beside him, staining it a dark red.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't rape a crying child.

Gently, he pulled out. He cleaned Potter off, inside and out, the best he could, leaving the tears alone. He moved to the side and closed Potter's legs. Tenderly, he touched Potter's face, trying to show him he meant no harm. "I won't hurt you any more tonight," he promised. Standing, he cleaned himself off and tucked away his penis. "I never wanted to. I only did it to try to protect you from Avery." How would he ever find a way to have sex with Potter? He'd have to think of some excuse for the Dark Lord.

As gently and non-invasively as he could, he dressed Potter and tucked him back under his sheets. Moisture still shone on the boy's face, but he'd stopped crying.

He pulled out his wand and removed the blinding spell, trying not to think about how Potter's tortured gaze made his chest feel like ice. Holding Potter's chin in his hand, he waited until Potter blinked his reddened eyes open, then cast " _Obliviate!_ ".

Once he was certain that Potter wouldn't remember the event, he gave the suggestion, "Sleep," and Potter obediently closed his eyes.

Severus left the cage and headed to his room to talk to one of his few remaining allies.

When Albus appeared, Severus said, "The Dark Lord expects me to rape him again, yet I have no desire to allow that act to be a staple in the throne room."

His expression grim, Albus took his seat. "Are you certain that is what the Dark Lord expects?"

Severus sighed. He had debated that very question so many times since the Dark Lord's letter had arrived. "I believe so. He hasn't outright said those words, but if I show permanent sexual interest in the boy, I can better prevent others from abusing him. It would seem odd if I ignored him except when others wished to use him. If I must rape him, I imagine that Potter would rather be abused in private than in front of an audience. Therefore, I should do so before the Dark Lord arrives in order to prevent a repeat of two nights ago. Even beyond that, if I am to abuse the boy between the Dark Lord's visits, I can focus on that display when I allow the Dark Lord in my mind, distracting him from other memories."

Albus sat back in his chair and, for the first time since Severus had met him, looked utterly defeated. "He hasn't touched _Billy Budd_?"

"No, and he'll probably just tear it to pieces as he did with his mother's book." Never mind that Severus had later rescued, repaired, and replaced it with a copy. 

"Why don't you try talking to him?"

Albus suffered from the illusion that Potter actually _listened_ to a single thing Severus said. "The moment he sees me, he attempts to attack me or destroy his surroundings. Sometimes both at once. I don't dare give him any more calming potions."

"You could constrain him and-"

"Constrain a rape victim?" Severus raised an imperial eyebrow. Really, that Albus had suggested such an obviously bad idea was a sign of how far they'd fallen.

Albus sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Perhaps you should tell him about the origins of the mythology book."

"If he taunts me over it, I'll hurt him. I won't be able to stop myself." He couldn't even think about it without a burst of rage boiling through his gut.

"For destroying what belonged to his mother?"

He didn't want this conversation, but Albus's comments couldn't pass without correction. "He's not _my_ son. I've devoted my life to him. That is more than he deserves."

Closing his eyes, Albus leant back in his chair. "Give him some time."

"The Dark Lord returns in two days, Albus. Maybe even tomorrow." He ran his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. "I don't have time."

"Just try talking to him."

Albus was useless. Severus picked up the portrait and shrank it before shoving it back in his robes. He headed back towards his lab. He might not be able to figure out how to improve his relationship with Potter, but he could figure out how to improve his potions. Perhaps if he found a way to speed up the clone work, he could claim the importance of his work kept him busy.

And then the Dark Lord could allow Avery to rape Potter.

One thing at a time. He had to improve the Sex Potion, or he’d never be able to rape Potter.

He worked on the potion until he saw Potter pick up _Billy Budd_ and rip out a page. Just as he’d thought; Potter destroyed everything around him.

Not wanting to see his last chance at reconciliation slowly torn to pieces, Severus turned away from the mirror and focused on the Clone Potion.

He waited until Potter fell asleep before he returned to the boy's cage to examine his wounds and feed him. His earlier rape attempt had left no marks, which meant that the potions and lube worked perfectly when it came to Potter's physical needs. He sighed to himself. He faced an impossible task. How on earth was he supposed to convince his rape victim to willingly have sex, at least whilst it was occurring?

As he pulled the covers back over Potter, something white caught his eye. Potter had smoothed out sheets from _Billy Budd_ , which likely meant that he'd read it. Hurriedly, Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out a stimulant. He placed a few drops on the inside of Potter's lips and left for the library.

It would look suspicious if he entered the cage so soon after Potter woke, so he waited a few minutes before entering.

Potter sat on his bed and, for the first time since the rape, his face remained free of hate upon seeing Severus. He looked, if anything, confused. Softly, he said, "I read the book."

_Yes!_ Reading, of course, was a long way from understanding, but it was a start and the first step forward in a long time. Severus said, "I had originally intended to give it to you to read later. Did you understand it?"

Pressing his lips together, Potter wrinkled his brow and he frowned at Severus's shoes. Then he nodded. "I think so. There were a lot of words I didn't know. But . . . Billy is a handsome soldier who is very innocent. He ends up on a ship with Captain Vere and Claggart, who hates him for some reason. Claggart accuses Billy of mutiny and Billy hits Claggart and kills him. Vere says that Billy has to be hanged because of the law and they hang Billy."

Thank Merlin the boy wasn't as stupid as he often acted. "It may be helpful to understand that Billy was completely innocent in killing Claggart." He moved closer to the bars, wishing that Potter could read his mind as easily as the Dark Lord could. "Captain Vere did not want to execute Billy. He hated what he had done to Billy until the day he died. He had no knowledge of Claggart's ill will towards Billy and desperately wished he had known of it earlier so that he could have protected Billy rather than harming him. As it was, Claggart's actions forced him to take a path he never would have embarked on if it had been left entirely up to him. You may blame Vere for the death of Billy, but I blame Claggart because he forced Vere to hurt Billy."

Potter's eyes flickered up to Severus's face. "So you-"

Swiftly, Severus stopped him with a hand. He had to build the alliance and, in order to do that, the Dark Lord needed to remain their common enemy. "I'd still like to test your reading comprehension before we speak about this further."

Frowning, Potter stared at Severus's chest. Then the furrow between his brows eased and he nodded. "I still don't think what he did was right. He could've helped Billy. There must have been something else he could've done to Billy besides . . .”

_Raping you?_

"Killing him." His jaw tightened, his eyes fixed on Severus's chest. "It's his fault that Billy died."

_If you had only seen what I've seen Avery do._ "While I agree with you that what Vere allowed wasn't right, did he really have a choice? The law was very specific in its instructions and Vere did not know if he had an actual possible mutiny on his hands, or if Claggart was lying completely. Even if there hadn't been one planned, allowing a man who killed a superior officer to escape the punishment ordered by the law would probably have encouraged possible mutineers and destabilised order. You must remember that a ship is a very different environment than a typical one, and all individuals involved must play certain parts that they don't wish to play in order to prevent actions which would undoubtedly result in total destruction."

Potter didn't interrupt and Severus explained as best he could. "I believe that what Vere did was necessary in his particular situation. Melville's work is often interpreted as Vere failing Billy by his focus on law, order, and reason, instead of following his own heart. Vere is often seen as neglecting his true duty. While I believe that it is important to not be so tied up by the letter of the law that we neglect to do what is morally right in most circumstances, I believe that in times of war and other conflict, it is sometimes _necessary_ to perform actions which are morally repugnant."

He shifted closer to the bars, willing that Potter would listen to him for once in his short, reckless life. "This is part of why I believe that the 'perfect hero' is an unobtainable ideal. Not that one would consider Captain Vere or any other persons associated with him to be heroic, but duty and morality become conflicted for any soldier, especially a heroic one. Have you understood what I've said thus far?"

Potter nodded. "I think so. It's very different from what I've always been told. I thought heroes had to try to always do what is right."

"I should think that they would _try_ to avoid doing things which are objectionable as much as possible but also be prepared to commit the worst sin imaginable if it means that a much greater good would prevail." _Like convincing you to give your life to save the world._ "If you take nothing else from the book, then realise why Billy was destroyed. He was too innocent and unable to see evil when everyone around him was pointing it out to him."

"I don't think I can really be considered innocent anymore." Potter gave a little snort.

He was still just a child, a young martyr who hadn't experienced the depth of the depravity of his captors. "You are not nearly as innocent as Billy, but some purity still remains in you. I trust you have learned by now to identify evil and would recognise a need to destroy it before it destroys you."

"Yeah." Potter's eyes flickered, the fire returning. "I think I got that down."

As he seemed calmer, Severus decided to test the limits of Potter's trust. He said, "You should take a bath now. Your sheets need to be changed and your cage hasn't been cleaned in a while."

Rather than put up a fight, Potter simply said, "Okay," and headed to the bars.

As the truce seemed too good to be true, even with the calming potions, Severus didn't try to push it further. He let Potter bathe himself alone, even though it was an incredible risk as he’d not cast the viewing spell.

To keep himself busy, he changed the sheets and cleaned the cage with magic, scrubbing away the dirt that had grown up around Potter's slovenly habits.

He was setting fresh sets of clothing on the bed when Potter returned and asked, "What's in the room we've never gone in?"

As he had no reason to lie, Severus said, "The laundry," as he left through the bars.

"Am I ever going to see the house elves? I'm not going to give them my clothes."

"Excuse me?"

"The house elves you have,” said Potter with certainty as he sat down to eat. "You said that you didn't want me giving them clothes."

That memory had been wiped as cleanly as possible. Of course, small traces of memories always remained in the system, but nothing that detailed. Potter couldn't remember it, could he? If he could remember that.... No. It couldn't be. He wouldn't be this calm, even with the calming potions. Perhaps he had some sort of fixation on house elves. As he left, Severus firmly said, "You won't see house elves here."

The last thing Severus needed was for the removed memories to return.

 

_In case you want to reread the section where Harry remembers part of that rape, it can be found in chapter 43a. Please review!_


	20. Chapter 20

Creating the rescue note out of sheets torn from the books had left Potter in a mood so buoyant, Severus could see the bounce in his step even through the mirror. Since Potter had responded so well to their little talk, and since the Dark Lord would be arriving the following night, Severus decided to take Albus’s advice and treat Potter as an adult. It wasn’t as if he had any other options. He hadn’t slept in four days, and none of the potions he’d attempted to brew had worked.

Of course, trying to treat Potter as a competent adult turned out to be a huge mistake.

It didn’t start off poorly. He arrived in the morning to feed Potter breakfast, pausing outside the door to close his eyes.

When he stepped into the cage, Potter didn’t try to attack him, but yawned and stretched and slid out of bed. He eyed Severus warily as he took his seat, but other than a half-hearted, “Why are you still here?” he didn’t offer much in the way of objection. The calming potions had worked wonderfully. If only they could work through future sexual assaults.

Severus took the chair opposite him. “I have a proposal for you, but you won’t like it. Eat your meal and then I’ll tell you.”

Potter crossed his arms, his face taking on that mulish expression he so loved. “I want to hear it first.”

How on earth would this ever work? Severus stared at the ceiling and wished that he had set up the mirror in front of Albus’s portrait so that the former Headmaster could see for himself what a snotty little brat he’d created. “You’ll hear it after you eat. If you refuse to eat, then I’ll leave until you do.”

Potter didn’t budge. “Why don’t you return after I eat?”

With a straight face, Severus said, “I don’t watch you continuously. I have no desire to return repeatedly until you’ve cleaned your plate.”

The green eyes narrowed, but then Potter picked up his juice and drank it. He ate slowly, starting with the laced mangoes. After a few bites, he seemed to forget Severus’s presence and he gulped everything down as if he hadn’t been fed the day before.

After he finished, Severus sent the empty dishes upstairs. He closed his eyes, cursed the world for putting him in this position, then opened his eyes and said, “The Dark Lord will return tomorrow night. He will want to see you tortured. He may want to see more of . . . what happened before.”

Potter stilled, his face turning a ghastly shade of white. He stared at the table.

“Others may demand access to you, but I might be able to keep them away if I claim you as my own. Of course, if I claim you, I must have regular access to you. If you would . . . perform with me, privately, before the Dark Lord arrives, I don’t believe that he would demand a public performance.”

His eyes flickering briefly towards Severus’s face, Potter scoffed and shook his head. “I’m not doing anything I don’t have to.”

Of course the brat would have to be difficult about this. “Do you _want_ to be raped by Avery?”

“Fuck you.” Potter shoved back from the table and jumped to his feet. Crossing his arms, he walked over and leant against the bars, facing away from Severus. “I want to kill him, but you wouldn’t let me do that.”

Even if he could, he wouldn’t. Despite everything that had happened, everything that had been said, Avery had done too much for him to be killed, even for this. “I can’t,” he said. He was getting nowhere. He tried again, “Potter, I don’t want to see him torture you.”

Potter let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “Yeah, because you want to do it.”

Nothing could be further from the truth. “Believe me, Potter, I feel no attraction to your scrawny, pathetic body. You have _nothing_ that could possibly interest me.”

Whirling around, Potter snapped, “You’re an ugly, greasy _freak_. You raped me because no one in their right mind would let you touch them.”

_The girl hissed, “I bet this is the only way you’ll ever get laid.”_

“ _Enough_.” He stood. “Either we do this now and it will be quick and painless, or you will be raped and tortured in front of an audience. Perhaps by multiple men.” Potter turned away from him. “Perhaps by a sharp object. What I did to you was _nothing_ compared to what they will do to you if you let them.”

Potter clutched the bars, his shoulders hunched, the baggy clothes slipping off his skinny frame. “I . . . I can’t.”

How difficult did he intend to make this? “All you have to do is lie still. It is certainly easier than the disgusting act I must do.” He knew it was risky to portray himself as disgusted by sex with Potter, but surely the Dark Lord would accept it as a form of strategy....

Potter’s hand tightened around the bar so hard, his fingers turned deathly white. He released the bar and, not looking at Severus’s face, headed towards the bed. “Fine,” he said. “But it has to be on my terms.”

Severus would agree to nearly anything as long as Potter spread his legs and didn’t put up much of a fuss. He gave a nod to show his assent and slid out of his outer robe, laying it neatly across the chair.

Potter had seated himself on the edge of bed, but remained fully dressed.

The sooner they started this, the sooner it would end. He’d slipped a mild aphrodisiac into his tea before he’d headed downstairs, but even with its help, arousal remained elusive. “You should undress.”

“You should undress,” mumbled Potter, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Of course the prat would do his best to make things difficult. “I don’t need to undress. At least remove your bottoms.”

Flipping the bed sheet entirely over himself, Potter fumbled with his clothes under the cover.

Could there be anything less erotic? _Concentrate._ Steadfastly, he undid the buttons on his trousers, leaving the top one in place should Potter change his mind. _Imagine an escort sucking your cock. Jessica, perhaps. Or Belle, she was the best._

Potter emerged from the swath of red, his chest still covered, and his waist and legs hidden under the blanket.

No matter what he did, this child would never be erotic. Firmly, he ordered, “Undress.”

Potter crossed his arms, glaring hotly at Severus from under his messy fringe. “I took off my pyjama bottoms, you arsehole.” He nodded at Severus’s groin. “Take out yours and I’ll show you mine.”

Pull out his cock in front of Potter’s critical eye? Never. “Annoying prat.” He swept forward and yanked off the sheet.

A flash of black warned him that Potter had been lying about the clothes a second before pain erupted from Severus’s groin, stealing his breath and landing him on his knees.

_Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!_ White blinded him. His bollocks! He clutched them protectively. Had they been smashed? FUCK!

Potter surged forward, groping through Severus’s robes for something.

His wand. Where was his wand?

Fuck!

He grabbed the nearest bit of Potter he could reach and cast, “ _Petrificus totalus!_ ” with Albus’s wand, which was hidden in his sleeve.

Potter fell to the floor. Fumbling in his robe pocket, Severus’s fingers closed over the stick of wood and he sighed. His wand. His vision still fuzzy, he Summoned his outer robe and hobbled out of the cage, clutching his groin. Merlin, that little shit could kick hard. Somehow, he managed to remember to close the bars behind him as he staggered towards the library, popping open a healing capsule. Inside the library, he undid the last button and pushed down his trousers and pants. He gingerly felt his swollen testicles. Bloody hell, they hurt.

“Fuck!”

Fumbling in his robes, he fetched a healing salve and carefully rubbed it into the bruised flesh.

If that bastard had destroyed his bollocks, he’d kill him.

As the flesh healed, the pain subsided. If he’d been damaged at all, he’d deal the same amount of damage to Potter. That prat. He probably hadn’t meant a word of what he said. He’d just been waiting for a chance to strike.

Once the pain was just a low ache, Severus straightened and tucked himself away. He doubted that all the aphrodisiacs in his cupboard could give him an erection now, but there were other ways of raping Potter.

Grabbing a quill from the table, he marched into Potter’s cage. He nudged the prone form with his foot and said, “Remember that I tried to be reasonable with you. This is entirely your fault. _Mobilicorpus!_.” He floated Potter in the air and, turning him face down, cast the chaining spell, binding his wrists to the bedposts closest to the bars. He released the body bind and Potter’s knees fell to the bed, his legs out over the edge. Quickly, before the boy could react, Severus swooped in and grabbed the back of Potter’s neck in one hand, yanking down his bottoms with the other.

“Fucking bastard!” Potter bucked, but Severus was quicker and caught his testicles, stilling him.

In Potter’s ear, Severus hissed. “Try that again and I’ll cut them off.”

“Fuck you.”

“ _Langlock_.”

Potter jerked his upper arms, but only slightly.

His grip tight, but not enough to hurt, Severus said, “I could numb you enough that you’d never feel pain. Anything else you want to lose? A finger? Your eyes? Your tongue? I’d love to take it.” He slid the hand on Potter’s neck around to the front, enjoying the thundering pounding of Potter’s heartbeat as he squeezed lightly. Potter screwed his eyes shut, his face reddening. “Don’t think I won’t do it, boy.”

Releasing Potter’s bollocks, he Summoned the quill. “You’re mine now and I’m only keeping you for _your_ protection. Hurt me again and I’ll give you to Avery.” Transforming and expanding the quill, he turned it into a thick rectangular block nearly as large as his forearm. “I’ll watch as he forces something like this-” he floated the block in front of Potter’s face “-into you over and over again. Look at it.”

Potter kept his eyes tightly shut.

Severus grabbed Potter’s hair. “Look at it, boy, or I’ll make you look.”

Potter’s left leg kicked at Severus as he opened his eyes. Releasing his throat and hair, Severus grabbed his ankles and pushed them apart. “You’ve earned this.” He conjured ropes and tied Potter in place. An odd, high noise emerged from Potter’s mouth as he thrashed against the bonds.

“ _Aveho sordes! Oleum!_ ”

The desperate noises emerging from Potter’s throat intensified. Ignoring them, Severus plucked the transfigured quill out of the air. Behind Potter’s back, he shrank it down to a small size and transformed it to match a butt plug he’d seen in one of the books. Potter’s entire body shook as though struck with the Cruciatus. Severus grabbed Potter’s thigh, spreading the cheeks with his thumb. Potter frantically shook his head, and Severus caught a glimpse of a red face.

Too red. Shit.

Desperately trying to speak, Potter had cut off his own airway. Releasing him, Severus removed _Langlock_ , and took a step back. Sharp wheezes burst from Potter’s lungs as he gasped, gulping down air, but somehow still short of breath.

He was hyperventilating.

Severus cast an oxygenation spell. “Breathe with your diaphragm, not with your lungs.”

Potter’s chest heaved, his mouth stretched wide. He wasn’t listening. He was too frightened to remember how to breathe.

Severus freed him from the ropes and chains. A small cry escaped Potter’s lips and he scurried to the other end of the bed, pulling the crimson sheet tightly around himself. Another high-pitched cry escaped him, but he closed his mouth and breathed deep breaths though his nose, his eyes tightly shut.

It was over. He had no way of convincing Potter to agree to rape outside of the throne room. He’d have to let the others have him. Not wanting to leave the boy in this condition, Severus took a chair and waited for Potter to calm.

Curled up in his cocoon of blankets, Potter lay facing away from him, his breath slowly evening out, the tremors subsiding.

He needed a drink. He needed to be back at Hogwarts. “It will be worse in the throne room.”

Potter didn’t turn from the wall. “I- I don’t be-lieve you.”

How could the boy be so damn stubborn? “You will once Avery has you.”

“You- you hate me.”

What did that have to do with anything? “So?”

“You . . . you raped me. And now you-” He let out a little moan, his shoulders shaking, his breath coming quicker. “You-”

Oh Merlin, if he could be anywhere but here.... He couldn’t do this. He rubbed his face, trying to ignore the queasiness in his stomach. “I did it because I don’t want Avery to have you. I’m trying to protect you from him.”

Potter shuddered. “Why do you- care what Aver-” he sucked in a huge breath. “What Avery does to me?”

He’d done his best to play the monster and he knew, by most Order standards, he was, but still the question caught him off guard. He had to think before he said, “When I became Headmaster, I swore an oath to protect Hogwarts and its students. I couldn’t kill you, even if I wanted to. Every time I hurt you, the spell punishes me.”

Potter wiped his face against the blankets and shifted slightly to gaze at Severus. The reddened flesh around his eyes contrasted sharply with the brilliant green. “I’m not a student.”

“You should be and, as far as Hogwarts is concerned, you are. The wards would allow you onto the grounds should you try.” That part was true.

“You said that you- couldn’t hurt me because Voldemort-” Severus twitched at the name. “-wouldn’t let you.”

“That is true as well.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Potter gazed up at the ceiling.

Severus tried again. “What can I do to convince you?”

His breath shuddering, his voice thick, Potter said, “Let me go. ”

Potter had been in danger before, but now, with the Dark Lord cognizant of the hunt for the Horcruxes, the boy wouldn’t remain free for long. As of now, he lived solely because of the Horxcrux inside of him. The more he showed himself to be a risk to the other, more permanently hidden Horcruxes, the greater the likelihood of his premature death. “That isn't an option.”

Potter turned back towards the wall.

“Perhaps I could create a potion. If you are sufficiently aroused-”

“I can’t stand the thought of you touching me. It makes me sick.” Pulling his blanket tighter around himself, Potter curled up further. “You’re so . . . hideous.”

After all these years, he should have been used to unfavourable remarks on his visage. He didn't care about fashion anyway. Why bother spending time perfecting one's body when one's mind was the more important aspect? Still, the comment burnt him. He studied his hands and refused to let the ghost of Tobias rise and repeat those lines that came to him unbidden when he lowered his guard.

His voice rising in volume, Potter said, “Your hair is greasy and your teeth are yellow and crooked. Your fingers-”

He stood. “That's enough." He didn't need to hear a list of his faults. He'd gathered plenty from students’ minds over the years. “I need to work and you need to take your healing potion.” He fetched a sleeping potion from his robes.

Potter didn't budge. “I'm healed. I've been healed.”

“Not entirely. The one I gave you in your last meal should wear off soon and intestines are notoriously difficult to heal. I don't want to leave you in pain.”

Shifting up into a sitting position, the blanket still covering him from head to toe, Potter crossed his arms. “ _You_ don't want to be in pain.”

Perhaps it had been a mistake to lie about that. Now Potter might try to hurt himself to hurt Severus. “Nor that,” he acknowledged, hoping to ease some of the boy's anger. “Look, Potter, if you had told me about Avery, I would have taken measures to keep him away from you. Don’t ever hide anything from me.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to say. Potter's eyes narrowed to slits and he trembled. He spat out, “You bastard. If you hadn't killed Dumbledore, _I_ wouldn't be here. If you hadn't killed Sirius, I’d be free. Or my parents. You know what? Fuck you, you disgusting piece of shit. I'd rather take Avery-”

“ _Langlock!_ ”

Potter flicked him off and turned back to face the wall.

This would never work. Too much anger poisoned their relationship. Severus cast the body bind, released Potter’s tongue, and fed him the sleeping potion. As it took its effect, he removed the memory. If he did this right, Potter would never notice the missing meal nor expanse of time.

He was nearly out of time. He’d taken too much and used an alarming amount of magic. His next attempt would have to stay.

_“I can’t stand the thought of you touching me.”_

He needed a potion that would make Potter crave contact. Something that would turn his touch into an addiction. Something non-permanent that would only exist during sexual contact. He needed help.

Striding to his lab, he fetched the list of Potions Masters Young had collected for him. Sixteen Potions Masters had been cited three times in Potions Journals, and nearly half of those more than that. In his lab, he pulled out sixteen pieces of parchment and charmed them to match the writing on the first.

_I require a potion designed to increase enjoyment of tactile sensation for the purposes of sexual stimulation. The ideal brew will function well with other potions commonly and uncommonly used for this activity, as well as fade after use with no long-term effects._

He folded the letters, sealed them (even though he knew they would be read by the couriers), and touched his Mark, summoning one of the ever-present Death Eaters guarding his location. He’d finished addressing his letters when two young Death Eaters appeared on the landing. Crossing the lab, he thrust the letters in their hands and said, “I need these delivered as soon as possible and I expect the replies before tonight.”

It was a difficult task, but he hadn’t any time to waste. They both nodded, bowed, and left, and he returned to his lab to work on his project. The Clone Potion had progressed better than expected, to the point where Mobilicorpus pulled the unfinished cloned body out of the cauldron. He’d only used the spell twice, as he didn’t want to disrupt the body.

The first reply arrived after three hours.

_Have you looked into mixing a Cheer Potion into an aphrodisiac? Enjoyment of tactile stimulation naturally increases upon arousal, and the heightened mood will make the subject all the more receptive to physical stimulation._

Cheer Potions and Calming Potions didn't mix well, but even if they had, it would take more than a Cheer Potion to raise Potter’s mood and receptivity. He wrote back, explaining the necessary calming potions.

The next letter simply said, _Any aphrodisiac would do._ and Severus wrote back, explaining in detail why that response was the most insipid answer he’d ever received to a query.

The next few replies were only slightly more helpful. It wasn’t until well into the evening that Severus received a useful letter from a Potions Master he’d never heard of before. From a Michael Lusk, who lived in Hackney.

_Certain groups of Muggles use Methylenedioxymethamphetamine, a synthetic drug derived from Sassafras, to produce euphoric states. It is well-known for heightening all the senses, including touch. For some, arousal is a side effect, although orgasm can be difficult to achieve. With precaution, it leaves no long-term effect in the subject, although unwanted emotional bonding can occur during use._

“Bring me Benjamin Young,” he told the Death Eater who’d brought him the response. As soon as the Death Eater had gone, he hurried to the library to grab every single Muggle book he had on chemistry and pharmaceuticals and brought them to his lab.

_Methylenedioxymethamphetamine, otherwise known as MDMA or ecstasy, was first synthesized in 1912 by Anton Kollisch....._

By the time the Death Eater returned with Young, Severus had written a note asking pointed questions and requesting a pure sample. He motioned for them both to enter the lab and thrust the letter into the other boy’s hands. “Pay him however much he needs.” He turned to Young and said, “Have you heard of a Muggle drug called MDMA?”

His brow furrowing, Young shook his head.

He’d expected the answer to be negative and held out a piece of parchment. “Here are the details I’ve gathered so far. I want to know everything you can find on this drug. It has been studied in conjunction with psychology, so you might want to check that literature first before delving into chemistry.”

Young took the parchment and studied the words. “A University, then?”

Thank Merlin for half-bloods. “Exactly. Return by ten tomorrow morning.” He fetched a few potions from his private collection of enhancements and poured them into vials for Young, marking them as he explained their uses. “A mental stimulant. A wakefulness potion. A clarity potion. Take the first one now, the next two the minute you feel tired. This is of utmost importance. Now go.”

“Yessir.” Young bowed. “Thank you, sir.”

If the boy helped him pull this off, he would reward him as best he could. He turned back to the literature. How had he not heard of this drug before? He’d been remiss not to increase his investigations into pharmaceuticals.

When the final response to his query of the Potions Masters arrived, he read the useless letter and sent the Death Eater to find sassafras. After that, he sent every Death Eater who stopped by to a different location in the UK to collect books where he might gather more information on MDMA.

Young returned the next morning with a thick stack of scrolls and books. By then, Severus had amassed a considerable amount of information. He’d broken down the components of MDMA and discovered that by increasing serotonin and flooding the system with oxytocin, he should be able to produce a similar effect to MDMA in Potter whilst avoiding the deleterious side effects known to sometimes follow doses. 

If he did this right, he could brew a potion that would diminish pain, aggression, fear, and anxiety; increase intimacy, empathy, and forgiveness; enhance enjoyment of social experiences; and form a temporary bond of trust between individuals on the potion and those in close proximity. True, the books and Lusk warned that the brain required time to build up serotonin levels between usages, which meant that the drug should only be given sparingly, but he might be able to fix that.

“Sit.” He motioned for Young to take a chair beside where two other Death Eaters were copying information down for him. “I want to know every possible negative side effect. Copy everything onto this scroll.” He tossed the scroll on the worktable and headed over to the cauldron boiling with his latest attempt.

His samples of MDMA had arrived in powder form - simple enough to mix into a potion, but it had its risks and he only wanted to give it to Potter as a last resort. Oxytocin broke down in the gastrointestinal tract and, when injected or breathed, barely lasted ten minutes. Unless he was to give Potter an extremely high dose - and risk toxic effects - he needed to find a way to deliver oxytocin slowly, outside of the gut, as well as combine it with a serotonin enhancer, an aphrodisiac, an analgesic, and a muscle relaxant. Every ingredient he added, the more likely it would react poorly with another, triggering an adverse reaction.

More importantly, he needed to brew it, test it, and try it on Potter, all before the Dark Lord returned in less than ten hours.

He needed a miracle.


	21. Chapter 22

The shampoo had taken some of the grease out of his hair, and the new toothpaste had improved the colour of his teeth, but he was and would always be a man twenty-one years Potter’s senior, never the boy’s ‘type’.

He’d never been one to rely entirely on potions (or even magic, for that matter), preferring instead to have a backup plan to every option, and even backups for his backups. Knowledge wasn’t simply a white rabbit, constantly to be chased, but a means of survival; however, on this issue, he had completely exhausted all of his possibilities. This was his only option other than to risk facing the Dark Lord without a memory. He refused to repeat the throne room performance.

He rinsed with mouthwash and smoothed down his robes, trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. Flicking off his bathroom light, he headed to the cellar, where he’d kept Potter asleep all day. Stepping into the cage, he cast a wakefulness spell, then firmly said, “Bath time, Potter. You’ve slept late enough.”

Muttering under his breath, Potter slid out of bed and followed him down the hall.

At the bathroom door, Severus hesitated. If he followed Potter inside, the boy could become belligerent, making the potion less effective. However, he hadn’t cast the viewing spell, and the Dark Lord wouldn’t permit Potter to be left alone.

Reluctantly, he stepped inside.

Potter scowled. “Why are you in here?”

Severus moved as far away from Potter as he could in the small bathroom. In a bored tone he said, “If you drowned, intentionally or not, the Dark Lord would have my head.” He turned his face pointedly towards the potions cabinet.

Potter kept himself hidden as much as possible as he finished bathing and got dressed. They returned to Potter’s cage, where Severus spelled a breakfast meal on the table to maintain the illusion of morning.

Not wanting to take large chunks of memory if this went wrong, he walked over to the toiletries and made certain that they were all filled. He touched the mouthwash and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he glanced back at the table, taking note of how much of the meal Potter had eaten in case he needed to restart this attempt. He had no idea _how_ he would go about restarting it, but he needed to have that option.

Carefully measuring his steps, he walked to the bed and sat down, popping open the aphrodisiac in his arm. He knew he shouldn’t use them at all, but even with Potter on the potion, he doubted he’d be able to perform completely sober.

Any minute now, the potion he’d planted in Potter’s food would kick in. He’d designed it go into effect shortly after Potter finished eating, but he couldn’t be certain of the exact time. He couldn’t be certain it would even work. Young had gone giggly and snuggled with the boxes of potion supplies, but if Young had had a full or empty stomach, or a natural propensity to react well to oxytocin or increased levels of serotonin....

Potter swivelled around to give Severus a quizzical glance.

Severus swallowed and said, “The Dark Lord has given me permission to use you between visits provided that I don’t cause you pain.”

His skin draining of colour, Potter blinked and lowered his toast. “I don’t-” He set the toast down on his plate. “Are you going to?”

Severus nodded. “Yes. The potion should take effect any minute now.”

“Potion?” Potter jumped to his feet, but his legs crumbled and he fell to the floor. His fingers moved, scrabbling over the floor, his chest heaving. “What did you give me, you bastard?” 

“Something to make it easier.” Knowing Potter wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight with the muscle relaxant taking hold, Severus stood and swept over to the boy. He picked him up easily, ignoring the weakened kicks and blows.

“Don’t touch me!”

If the oxytocin didn’t go into effect soon, this attempt wouldn’t be any more successful than the last.

Trying not to let his natural pessimism take over, Severus carefully set Potter down on the bedsheets and stepped away to remove his outer robe.

A low, deep moan emerged from Potter’s throat and he rolled over, rubbing himself against the sheets as he voiced his pleasure. 

_Please, please, please let it last long enough..._

Tossing his robe onto the chair, Severus climbed onto the bed and touched Potter’s hips, half expecting to be hit. When no rebuke came, he gently rolled him onto his back.

“Oh...” moaned Potter. “That’s _exquisite_.” His cheeks looked sunburnt, his eyes hot with lust, without a single flash of hate. He started to roll back onto his stomach and Severus caught him, pinning him in place with a leg.

Earlier that morning, Severus had reviewed the gay sex books to be certain he did this correctly. _Foreplay first. The nipples are highly erogenous._ He gently pushed up the jumper, carefully watching Potter’s face for any signs of distaste or potions complications.

“Soft,” gasped Potter, his eyes unfocused and his body undulating gently. His hands slid up, grabbing clumsily at Severus’s robes. Annoying, but better than being attacked. Severus worked steadily on the jumper around Potter’s clumsy fondling.

Potter’s fingers tangled in his hair and tugged on it. _Hard._

Oblivious to the fact that he’d nearly scalped Severus, Potter groaned, “Soft. Silk.” Severus gritted his teeth. He’d had rougher sex, but he’d been interested in fucking those women. The aphrodisiac hadn’t yet taken effect and right now, pulling his hair just _hurt_. He managed to gently disentangle Potter’s hands from his hair, but then the boy went for his arms, grabbing and tugging on the fabric. This wasn’t going to work.

“Potter,” he warned as he caught the obnoxiously wandering hands and pinned them above Potter’s head. He cast a chaining spell, the words making Potter shiver.

“Ah!” Potter tugged on the bonds, his brow furrowing and an extremely childlike, quizzical look forming on his face, as though he were confused about what had happened to his hands.

Pushing the jumper up over Potter’s head, Severus shifted back to give himself access to Potter’s chest.

“Nice,” said Potter, rubbing his face against the jumper like a cat. “Verrrry nice.”

Even with the situation as serious as it was, Severus couldn’t help but smirk at the melted puddle of sensual happiness Potter had become. If the potion could work so well on someone so angry and upset, how would it work on a happy person?

_Foreplay first. He needs to be relaxed._

Not quite aroused himself, he touched Potter’s feverishly warm shoulders, imagining the torso beneath him to be one with undeveloped breasts as he slowly slid his hands down the oddly soft, burning skin.

The vivid eyes locked with his own. Her eyes. Hadn’t he imagined her looking at him like this? Such pure, unadulterated lustful longing. To be _needed_. Desired more than anything else in the world. 

But he could never have her. She’d died because of him. He looked away.

_Concentrate_.

He touched Potter’s nipples, drawing an obscene groan. Perfect. If he could make Potter desperate with lust, the boy would be more likely to consent to penetration, even with his memory of the brutal rape.

“More....” moaned Potter breathlessly. “More....” 

Severus’s fingers moved, seeking out the patterns that drew the loudest groans from Potter’s throat. He’d never imagined that he could have a partner this responsive, this entranced by each tiny shift of his fingers.

He’d chosen an aphrodisiac that hardened him, but didn’t cloud his judgement. Because of that, he knew the coil tightening in his stomach wasn’t entirely due to the potion. Bending his head, Severus sucked one of the hard nipples into his mouth, teasing the puckered flesh lightly with his tongue.

Potter pressed against him, his pleasure voiced so loud, it seemed to echo throughout the room. How much of the pleasure was due to natural inclinations and how much was due to the potion? Either way, Severus had found a sweet spot. He smirked, the removal of his mouth drawing a haunted cry from Potter. He sucked in the other peak, using a hand to stimulate the first.

“W-wonderful. I have- to tell- Ginny.”

Ginevra Weasley? So the relationship rumours were true, as he’d suspected. 

“So fu-cking good.”

No objections so far. Severus sat up and fetched the special lubrication he’d prepared earlier. The analgesic hadn’t reacted well with the other components and had to be put in the lubrication, along with a scent to cause quick conditioning. If he did this right, just opening the lubrication jar would make Potter hard, helping Severus to reduce the dosage over time. Remembering how all the books had said plenty of lube was needed, he waved a chair over and set the jar on its seat after coating three of his fingers generously in the gel.

“Touch me! Touch me or I will hex you, you bastard!”

A request like that couldn’t be ignored. He pulled off Potter’s pyjama bottoms and gently nudged his legs apart.

“No.” Potter desperately shook his head, his limbs jerking. “It hurts. Not that.”

Great. He shouldn’t have interrupted the foreplay. He bent down to suck Potter’s nipple again and the boy gasped. “Ah!”

Slowly, so as not to alarm Potter, Severus slid his hand up Potter’s inner thighs.

“My cock,” Potter groaned, his hips lightly thrusting, his erection thick and dark red. “My cock, touch my cock.”

Severus cast the lubrication and cleaning spells, then gently pressed his finger up against Potter’s anus and pushed inside.

It slid in easily, drawing a gasp from Potter that sounded to be composed of surprise rather than pain. He didn’t object, so Severus added a second, amazeed at how easily it sank in. Potter was probably more relaxed than he’d ever been.

“Odd,” muttered Potter, his hips softly gyrating as Severus thrust his fingers in and out, trying to open him up. He needed to take this slowly.

“My cock,” whinged Potter. “You missed it!” He thrust his hips faster, his precome-covered cock bobbing.

Lifting his head, Severus teased, “Impatient boy.” With Potter wiggling so much, finding the prostate wasn’t as easy as it had been before.

“Ah.... Give me your mouth.”

If it would make him behave. Severus closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Potter’s surprisingly soft ones. Potter moaned, a tiny, almost embarrassed sound, his eyelashes fluttering against Severus’s cheek as his mouth worked sloppily over Severus’s. He tasted like his breakfast: orange juice and eggs.

There. Was that spongy yet firm bit of flesh it? Severus pushed his fingers against it and received a cry of pleasure as reward. They broke the kiss and Potter licked his lips.

“You’re a better kisser than Draco.” 

What the hell? Draco and Potter hadn’t had a relationship, had they? Lucius would’ve skinned Potter alive. Unless that was why Lucius was so angry? No, Potter was straight. Wasn’t he? “Excuse me?” 

Potter growled and his hips worked fast. “Move! Touch me in there!”

Potter was out of his mind. Who knew what sort of twisted delusions were running through that thick head? Severus added a third finger, fucking Potter with them as he spread them out, trying to stretch the tight flesh. Slipping one finger in had been easy, but it would take a lot of work before he could slip his cock inside.

“I’m go-” gasped Potter, “gonna die.” 

Severus stopped. An allergic reaction? Shit! He should have given Potter a tiny dose! Potter’s pulse felt fast, but not dangerously so. His temperature, always hot, remained in the normal range. His breath came quickly, but evenly. What was wrong?

Potter gasped. “My cock...”

Oh, he was just incredibly randy.

“Please . . . touch me....”

He must have been desperate to beg, which meant he was probably ready. Severus pulled out his fingers and released the chains binding Potter’s hands. He wouldn’t be able to do it if he had to look at her eyes.

Potter launched himself at Severus, wrapping around him and humping him, his limbs quivering like the boy was some sort of wanton octopus. As carefully as he could, Severus disentangled himself and turned Potter around, placed him on his knees, then stretched his hands high above his head and chained him there. 

“Need....”

Severus kissed the warm skin on the back of Potter’s neck and teased his nipples. If he concentrated, he could pretend he was having sex with a short-haired, oddly shaped woman. Not that his erection needed help.

Potter gasped, “My cock....” His body was trembling. “Touch my cock.”

He touched Potter’s thighs, expecting to need to do a bit more stretching, but Potter spread his legs and pressed back against him. “Touch me there.”

Consent at last, even though it came from a drug-addled mind. He’d been so focused on his task, he’d ignored the heavy press of his full cock against his pants. He freed himself, not needing extra help from the aphrodisiac as he pressed his prick up against Potter’s hole and hoped that he’d used enough lube and done enough stretching.

“No, not that.”

He’d come too far to stop. Concentrating on moving slowly, he pressed inside just as he closed his hand over Potter’s cock, squeezing lightly. Groaning softly, Potter tilted back his head and didn’t try to pull away. Gently, slowly, Severus stroked the massive cock, letting Potter do most of the thrusting as the boy impaled himself, his warm body clenching Severus’s cock tightly. Stifling a groan, careful to be sure he didn’t cause Potter pain, Severus carefully pressed back. Once he was certain he couldn’t slip out, he teased Potter’s nipple with his free hand and was rewarded with a sharp cry.

Fear and hesitation lost, Potter fucked himself wantonly. Oh Merlin, that felt _good_. Bloody hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone writhe on his cock so enticingly. Severus grabbed Potter’s hips and fucked him.

With each deep stroke, Potter screamed his pleasure so loud and so sharp, Severus would have thought him faking had their encounter been consensual. It was a bit ridiculous and his ears burned. He’d received a few compliments before, but no one was _that_ good. 

Shifting slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, he found a spot that made Potter scream, “FUCK!” He thrust his hips again, harder, and more filth and obscenity fell from Potter’s lips with each inward stroke, most of it dissolving into gibberish.

He’d just gotten into a good rhythm when Potter’s body clamped painfully tight around him and he could do nothing but sit there, holding Potter whilst the boy screamed and tremors tore through his body. As suddenly as the onslaught had begun, it was over and Potter hung limp. For a split second, Severus thought he’d injured the boy. A second later he realised that he’d witnessed the most intense orgasm he’d ever seen.

He was a potions genius! If he found a way to market this thing (under a pseudonym, of course), he’d be rich. Triumphant, he held Potter in place and fucked his arse, his strokes quickening as the pressure built in his balls. With the help of the aphrodisiac, it didn’t take long before orgasm crashed into him, stealing his breath and spreading warmth throughout his body.

Perfect. He couldn’t imagine a better vision with which to distract the Dark Lord. Holding Potter securely, he released the chains and lowered them both to the bed. One of the books said that pulling out could be just as painful as insertion, so he let his cock soften inside Potter’s arse as he subtly checked his vital signs.

Heart rate normal, breathing normal, and no tooth grinding, which was a known side effect. Potter’s throat would likely be sore in the morning if it wasn’t already. Had the orange juice contained enough antioxidants? Would the restorative potion he’d slip in Potter’s next meal properly re-balance his serotonin? Perhaps he’d given the boy too much potion. After all, the textbooks said that the body needed time to recover from the loss of serotonin.

Potter let out a contented little sigh, and Severus finally let himself relax. He’d done it. He’d found a way to rape Potter without feeling like a rapist in the moment. Potter would probably be furious when his senses returned, but if this little show meant that he wouldn’t be abused in the throne room, it was worth it.


	22. Chapter 23

He’d delayed it long enough. If he didn’t perform soon, he wouldn’t have a vision for the Dark Lord. The last place he wanted to go was Potter’s cage, especially after seeing the boy getting sick over the toilet, but he had to.

Sucking in a breath, he brushed off his robes and cast a cleaning spell on himself to remove any traces of potion fumes. He didn’t know why he bothered. It wasn’t as if Potter had noticed his attempts to make himself more presentable and, even if he had, Severus would never be the right gender.

He sighed and headed to Potter’s cage. As he touched the table he said, “I expect the Dark Lord will arrive in a few more days. We should . . . have intercourse within the next two days.”

They needed to perform by the next day, but Potter didn’t know any better, and his perception of time was easy to manipulate.

Potter didn’t move.

Bloody hell, how would this ever work? Was he just going to have to pour the potion in Potter’s food whenever he needed to rape him? He hoped to be able to give him some sense of control, at least the ability to consent to being drugged if nothing else. Perhaps it was impossible. Perhaps such a thing always had to be entirely forced because how could a boy like Potter ever consent, at all, to having sex with his rapist? That attack on Gringotts better come soon.... 

As it didn’t look like Potter would ever look at him, he left the cage. “Do try to eat. I haven’t drugged anything.” Maybe Potter didn’t know he could take the drug again. As he repaired the bars, he offered, “If you’d like, I can give you the drug I used last time to make things easier for you.”

Potter kicked off his covers. Jumping to his feet, he spat, “Of course I want the fucking potion! Do you think I’d willingly have sex with a greasy, ugly git like you!?”

And he’d tried his best to be nice! This was the thanks he got for being considerate. “Shut up! I have no attraction to runty, underdeveloped, little-”

Launching himself at the bars, Potter screamed, “TAKE THAT BACK!” His hands clawed out between the bars. “YOU FUCKING TAKE THAT BACK!”

“I have done nothing but try to help you for the-”

“YOU FUCKING LIAR!” Potter pounded his fists against the bars, his eyes narrow slits of green. “COME HERE SO I CAN KILL YOU!” He slammed his fists harder and blood spattered on the floor.

“Stop, Harry!” he cried, hoping that the use of the boy’s name would calm him, “You’re hurting yourself!

“GOOD! I HOPE VOLDEMORT COMES AND CRUCIOS YOUR ARSE! I HOPE YOU FEEL THIS!” Potter smashed his fist into the bar, and blood splashed onto Severus’s robes.

It was no use. Potter’s rage was burning him alive. “ _Petrificus Totalus! Mobilicorpus!_ ” Severus floated him back to the bed and chained him in place. To keep him from hurting himself, Severus fastened Potter’s ankles to the bed with a binding spell. Once he’d secured the boy, he fetched a healing potion mixed with an analgesic and force-fed Potter the concoction.

The moment he released Potter from the body bind, Potter savagely pulled on his bound limbs and screamed, “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” 

They’d never survive like this. He turned on his heels and left the room, heading for the potions lab. Unless he did something, and fast, Potter would destroy himself. Severus couldn’t blame him. If he were in Potter’s position, he’d probably be trying to figure out a way to break his hand in order to slide off one of the damned cuffs. _Bloody hell_. He needed a way to give Potter strength. Hope. 

He summoned the Dark Lord as he marched to the lab, giving emphasis to the summoning to let the Dark Lord know he needed to speak to him alone. 

He didn’t have to wait long before the Dark Lord appeared.

“Forgive me, my Lord.” He bowed low, sinking to his knees. “The child hurt himself. I was unable to stop him in time. I’m afraid that I overestimated his attachment to me before I raped him. I have an idea how to win back his affections, but you may not agree to the plan.”

“What is it?” asked the Dark Lord impatiently.

“I’d like to pretend to train him, my Lord.” _Please let this work._ He had no other option.

Coolly, the Dark Lord said, “The boy has no magic.”

He hadn’t outright rejected it - a good sign. Severus rubbed his sweaty palms and said, “Which is why his training will all be a ruse, my Lord. It will do nothing but make him overconfident.” Thankfully, Potter didn’t actually need to be trained, as there would be no final battle. In the end, the boy just needed to die willingly. 

The Dark Lord’s face twisted, “I want him to join me, not fight me.”

“He will, eventually,” Severus promised. “I need him to be reliant on me first. Please, my Lord, allow me to try this. I’ll make him overestimate his abilities. I’ll convince him he can dodge spells at close range-”

The Dark Lord snorted.

“-and other such foolish nonsense. Dumbledore trained him to be a weapon and he’s lost now, without instruction.” Albus hadn’t trained Potter to do anything but be sacrificial and reckless, but the Dark Lord’s stance shifted slightly and Severus knew he’d opened a crack. Now he just needed to wiggle his way in. “He needs someone to order him through a strict regimen with structured discipline. Once he bows to you, I can train him to be a weapon for you.” 

“Very well,” said the Dark Lord. “He has to show improvement in two weeks’ time.”

He’d never been given a time restriction before. He’d have to increase Potter’s calming potions intake. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Rise.” The Dark Lord walked over to the wash. “When will the first body be ready?”

“Tomorrow, I believe.” He might have to find some way to delay it. “In theory. I imagine I’ll have to tweak the recipe. Have my newest theories on Polyjuice been tested?”

The Dark Lord gave a small nod, his eyes on the dark surface of the wash. “House-elves and goblins can be Polyjuiced into each other without complications, as can kappas and grindylows. The targeted Polyjuice Potions should be finished within a month.”

Hopefully this would be over before the end of the month. He nodded and grabbed a skin-healing potion off the shelf. Potter had probably twisted himself in all sorts of contortions while screaming out his rage.

Swirling around, the Dark Lord marched up the steps. At the top he warned, “Don’t ever let him hurt himself again.” before he vanished.

Not even a short Cruciatus? The Dark Lord must have been very, very pleased with the Polyjuice Potion results, which seemed a bit odd, as they weren’t _that_ close to making a permanent body. 

He hurried to the kitchen, put some extra calming and sleeping potions in Potter’s food, then returned to the cellar, where Potter tried to kill him with a glare.

“Potter,” he said calmly as he poured the potion onto a cloth, “save your anger for when you’ll destroy the Dark Lord. You will kill him, won’t you?”

“I-!” The rage melted to confusion. “What?”

“The Dark Lord. The reason why you left school after your sixth year was to destroy him. It’s what you most wish to do, correct? Even if it costs you your life....”

“Of course I want to kill him, you idiot! I would do it right now if I could!”

Severus dabbed the potion over Potter’s wounded knuckles. “I will train you....”

“WHAT?!”

“...to kill the Dark Lord,” he said, focusing on the wounds. “However, I must insist that you acquiesce to a few demands.”

“I . . . what?” Potter stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

Summoning a bandage from his robes, Severus wound it around Potter’s hand. “You must agree to follow my rules. The choice is yours. You can stay here and try to get out on your own, or wait for your friends to save you. Perhaps you will find yourself lucky, perhaps not. The Dark Lord will have no use for you eventually and then you will be killed or worse. Or . . . you can become my student again.”

Potter stared at him gormlessly and Severus wondered if he’d short-circuited the idiot’s brain. He released Potter’s legs and dabbed the potion into the wounded ankles. If they were to spend more time together, then he needed more respect, otherwise he’d end up choking Potter to death. “I will require several concessions on your part before I teach you, however. First and foremost, the Dark Lord must never get a hint of what I am offering to do. If I even have an inkling that your Occlumency is weak against him or that you will reveal this secret to him in a fit of anger against me, I will not hesitate to completely Obliviate you.” He’d thought about doing it just to make his life easier, but Potter had to willingly sacrifice himself, and no one could predict what sort of values the Obliviated Potter would hold. “Do not doubt me when I say that I will do it in a heartbeat in order to protect myself. I will not have my life destroyed because you got angry with me for doing something that was required of me.”

Potter said nothing. Severus released his cuffs and examined his arms. “The second rule is that you must speak to me in a respectful manner.”

Potter opened his mouth to protest, but Severus didn’t let him. “Just listen. We don't have to like each other. We can still hate each other all we want . . . but I will not have you flinging insults at me whenever I do something you don't like. While I still dislike you, I promise to be more civil towards you than I was during your school years.”

“Don't call me stupid,” sniffed Potter. “Or little.”

A reasonable request. Severus took the chair. He needed Potter to believe in this training wholeheartedly. He needed to convince the boy that this was his ticket to freedom and that, without Severus, he was doomed. “I also must insist that you take this duty seriously and train as you have never trained before. I will push you hard, and I do this not to be sadistic, but because I have no idea how much time we have, or how long I will be able to remain here with you. Any day, the Dark Lord could decide that he needs me elsewhere and replace me with another guard.”

Potter rubbed his arm, his face turning slightly green.

Now to try to counteract his martyrdom. “Finally, you must do your duty and kill him or any other Death Eater who stands in your way. I do not want to spend time training you only to have you die when you hesitate to kill a Death Eater and allow him to cast on you first. Likewise, when I finally bring you before the Dark Lord to destroy him, you will do your absolute best. Right now, he doesn't regard you as a danger, but the minute he views you as a threat, he will destroy you. If you are lucky, he will kill you. If you are not, what is being done to you here will seem like heaven compared to what he has in store.” He leant in close, to meet Potter’s gaze unwaveringly. “Do you understand me?”

His green eyes fixed on Severus, Potter nodded.

Severus stood and moved to the side. “Come, eat your dinner.”

Without any sort of fuss, Potter slid out of bed and took the chair. He ate automatically, but without complaint. 

Perfect. Severus headed to his lab. The true test of the matter would be when they would next have to perform, but in the meantime, they could be in the same room together without trying to kill each other.

How would he ‘train’ Potter? He needed something that would be destructive to Potter’s fighting ability, yet be absolutely believable to Potter. It shouldn’t be too difficult; Potter was a dunderhead. He grabbed one of the various catalogues of equipment and flipped through it. Perhaps some sort of projectile that could take the place of spells? He could charm them to fly at Potter at a slower speed than spells. Something soft and lightweight, so that, if it struck Potter, it wouldn’t hurt him. Prepared kappa bladders. Used in potions to measure density and to slowly release substances through their thin membranes, they were solid enough to withstand being easily crushed, yet light enough that they wouldn’t hurt Potter unless he spelled them to.

He wrote out the order, then pressed his Dark Mark.

A Death Eater arrived, one who could easily fit into the Malfoy family with his white blond hair and pointed chin. “Anything else, sir?” he said, as he took the piece of parchment.

If Potter could be calmed down after being raped, then Narcissa could certainly be regained as an ally. She valued her son above all else. If Severus proved himself to be an excellent mentor.... “Yes, I want to see the grades of Hogwarts students. I also want you to fetch copies of these-” He grabbed a spare bit of parchment and scribbled down a few titles. “-books and deliver them to Draco Malfoy.”

After the boy had left, he turned to the wash and cast, “ _Mobilicorpus!_ ”

Potter’s cloned body rose up out of the wash. Carefully, Severus floated it to the nearest worktable. He’d expected it to need some adjustments, but the body before him was identical to Potter’s. Scarcely believing his eyes, he stepped forward and examined the clone. Visually, it was Potter, albeit without the scars. From the moles that dotted his chest, to his flaccid penis, to the wild shock of hair (although this hair had much room to grow). Severus’s calculations had been correct. Not a hair was out of place. Even the nails fit perfectly, although they were a bit long.

He touched the chest in order to start the heart, but his fingers sank slightly into the skin. _Damn_. The skin hadn’t set right. He dragged his fingers along Potter’s torso and strips of flesh tore away from the muscles, following the path of his fingers. 

Still, for the first result of a new spell, it was quite the success. He stepped away from the body and washed his hands in the sink. Once he’d cleaned off all the skin, he destroyed the body and set the next one in the wash along with a few more potions. Soon, he’d have the perfect clone.

~

In his life, Severus had seen a great many things, many of which were thought to be impossible. Still, few proved to be as distracting as the memory of Potter, his senses obliterated by the Sex Potion, wantonly cuddling and humping the table. Severus set down his knife and rubbed his eyes. Perhaps it was just his lack of sleep, but even now, hours after the event, he still couldn’t think of it without wanting to burst into laughter.

_“I liiike the table.” His eyes glazed over, Potter rubbed his cheek against the wood, his mouth open as if he might try snogging it. His hands stroked the wood as his hips undulated. “Nice table.”_

He shook his head and picked up his knife. He didn’t have the time to deal with distractions.

_“I wanna touch.” Potter thrust out his chest, the pinkness of his face had spread down his torso, just past his hard nipples._

He needed to finish cutting these Blood Orchid roots.

_“Hurry up,” demanded Potter. He spread his legs and raised his arse, his thick cock full. “I want to come.”_

Severus’s cock pulsed and he shifted his stance slightly, trying to ease the pressure on it. He’d been worried that he’d have to force himself to be sexually aroused by Potter’s body, and had even considered forcing himself to masturbate whilst he watched and touched the sleeping boy. He hated using aphrodisiacs on himself and had hoped to wean himself off of them, but hadn’t imagined he wouldn’t need them after only a second session of rape with the potion.

_“I need more!” cried Potter, his hips thrusting desperately against Severus’s fingers. “I’m gonna die unless you touch my cock!”_

It wasn’t as if he found Potter’s body arousing. When he looked at the scrawny form, he wished for a woman - even an ugly one. He’d glanced over some of the pictures in the gay sex books and, while he could appreciate symmetry and other indicators of beauty in the male form, Potter wouldn’t be considered particularly attractive, even by those who preferred males. Except for his eyes.

_“No,” gasped Potter as he tried to flip himself over. “I don’t like it this way.”_

He scraped the clippings into the jar. It wasn’t as if he wanted to rape Potter. If it were up to him, he’d never touch the boy again. Although he lacked a suitable alternative at the moment, he’d never been one of those individuals enslaved by their libido.

_Potter’s arse tightened around him as he thrust in deeper. “Oh, yeeees. A dragon. A fucking huge dragon.”_

He measured out two spoonfuls of the fresh clippings and added them to the beaker of Arctic salt water. Even though he knew Potter’s desire arose because of a potion, it was impossible to ignore such hunger. It was addicting to be so wanted, even by a very compromised mind.

_“Huge,” moaned Potter. “Twice Ginny’s size. Every inch. Full.”_

_Severus stopped. Did he hear that right? Ginny?_

_“Move, damn you! Move!”_

The entire experience just didn’t feel real, rather like a twisted dream. Who would have thought that Potter could be so cuddly, like an overgrown puppy? Perhaps the fake training sessions he’d given him earlier had helped, but he still found it hard to believe how agreeable Potter became under the potion.

_“Mmmm....” Potter pressed back against Severus’s body, and released a contented little sigh. “So good.”_

Selecting his largest stopper, he added a few drops of Komodo dragon bile, then placed a lid over the beaker and shook his latest creation. When the liquid had turned bright blue, he poured it into the wash. He cast the stasis spells and then, holding his breath, used _Mobilicorpus_ to raise the cloned body and float it over to the worktable.

Visually, they matched. He pressed a finger into the cold skin on the clone’s arm and the skin held. Closing his eyes, he placed his hands on the clone’s chest and jump-started the heart.

_Ba-thump._ Blood, previously frozen, coursed through the arteries and veins and he mapped its path, checking for any oddities. When nothing seemed out of the ordinary, he started the lungs and the chest rose and fell rhythmically. No gasping or wheezing, no sign of any of the organs malfunctioning.

He pushed back his sleeves and summoned the Dark Lord. Earlier, he’d sent a letter, detailing his plans for the day and requesting privacy.

Pointing his wand at the clone’s head, he cast, “ _Imperio!_ ”. It felt the same as any other time he’d cast the curse, albeit without the mind of the cursed fighting back.

_Open your eyes._

Nothing.

Of course. He’d been foolish to cast that spell. There was no mind to instruct. He’d have to do this a different way. He slipped out of his outer robes and rolled up his sleeves. With his wand trained firmly on the body, he cast, “ _Mobilicorpus!_ ” and concentrated on not moving the body at all.

The body remained stationary.

He focused on the eyes, picturing clearly in his mind all the muscles and flesh surrounding them, and the necessary steps to open them. _Open your eyes._

The lids snapped open. The irises stared straight ahead. They were perfect.

Focusing his attention on Potter’s the clone’s torso, he ordered, _Sit up._ as he manipulated the muscles. The upper torso rose up off the table, then fell back down. He tried again, but the body wouldn’t move more than a few inches. What was he missing? He lay down on the floor of his lab and then sat up, paying close attention to the muscles used. Then he used magic to force his own body into a sitting position. After a few trials, he stood and cast the necessary movements on the clone.

The chest rose, the torso curling in on itself until Severus forced it as straight as possible. The head hung back, the mouth and eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. He shifted his attention to the head, but just releasing the body for a second was enough to cause it to flop forward, the head banging on the legs. _Bloody hell, this won’t be easy._

_Sit up._ He pushed too hard and the shoulders jerked up, the head bouncing on the chest. Holding the torso steady, he manipulated the head, forcing it upright and closing the mouth.

Although the clone physically matched Potter, when it sat upright, it didn’t resemble Potter at all, but some grotesque version of him. The eyes remained unfocused, fixed solidly in the direction Severus turned them, but not looking at anything, as it couldn’t _see_. It breathed and its neck pulsed with blood. He knew that with time he could train it to walk, talk, and do anything a human could do, physically, but it didn’t seem _alive_.

Someone arrived on the landing and he returned the clone to a prone position. The Dark Lord strode through the privacy spells just as he closed the eyes.

“My Lord.” Severus bowed. “It has mobility.”

The Dark Lord swept to the side of the worktable and stared at Potter’s clone with an expression so alien, it took Severus a bit to recognise it: astonishment.

He allowed himself a small smirk. _Success!_ After so long, after so many hard sacrifices, he’d _finally_ done something that the Dark Lord himself thought impossible. He needed to be especially careful now. If he proved himself to be ingenious, the Dark Lord might think him too clever....

“It is finished?”

“Not yet, my Lord.” He moved to the other side of the table and lifted a limp arm. “The body functions well now, but it is newly created. I don’t yet know if it’s sustainable. I’ve already begun the second batch.” He waved to the brewing cauldron with his free hand, then ran a finger along the arm. “The skin feels a bit stiff to me.” Potter’s skin had always been soft and warm, not this cold clay before him. “Once I’m certain that the body can ‘live’ for long periods, I’ll focus my efforts on the spellcraft necessary to place Potter’s soul within this new container.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes hadn’t ever wavered from the clone. Without looking at Severus, he ordered, “Leave. I’ll fetch you when I’m ready.”

Severus bowed and left. He’d suspected the Dark Lord would want to try manipulating the body just as he had, so he headed to the kitchen to prepare the next couple of meals. He had finished the second round of baking when the Dark Lord stepped into the kitchen.

“The body is stiff,” said the Dark Lord. “Weak.”

As the Dark Lord focused his attention on Potter in the mirror, Severus continued slicing the mushrooms. “The boy was broken considerably when he was captured. I’ll adjust the muscle potion, but if you wish the clone to be strong, then we’ll either need to strengthen Potter now, or strengthen the clone after it is produced.”

The Dark Lord looked at him through narrowed eyes. “The boy doesn’t appear so weak he can hardly walk.”

Frowning, Severus set down the knife and washed his hands. “That’s odd.” He focused his attention on the tomatoes he’d set next to the mushrooms rather than the Dark Lord’s face. “Either the healing potions I routinely feed Potter are masking wounds or the muscles aren’t properly built. If you’ll allow it, I will make adjustments to both in the next batch, but I’ll need for Potter to be free of torture long enough for the healing potions to clear his system for a few days.”

He turned to fully face the Dark Lord. “With the next wash, I intend to soften the skin slightly. That should help with the stiffness, although it could be a muscle or even a joint complication.”

The tension fell out of the Dark Lord’s shoulders and Severus slowly released the breath he’d been unconsciously holding. He waited for the Dark Lord’s attention to turn back to Potter before he returned to his vegetables, grabbing a tomato and setting it on the chopping block. 

His back to Severus, the Dark Lord said, “How did the training go?”

“Very well, my Lord.” He focused his attention on the tomato, trying to pretend that the Dark Lord’s presence didn’t unnerve him. “I suspect that soon I’ll be able to open his cage door, leave his view, and he won’t try to run away. Is there any particular plan you want to . . . divulge to him?”

“Say whatever you want.”

_Which means you’re curious what I’ll say._ He set the sliced tomatoes on a plate.

The Dark Lord made a noise of contempt. “Why don’t you use magic to cook?”

Of all the subjects on which the Dark Lord could have criticised him, he’d never suspected cooking would be amongst their number. “It allows me to think.” He took another tomato and slid the knife through it. “Magic requires skill and concentration whilst Muggle chores allow the mind to wander. At Hogwarts I’d patrol the halls or the Forbidden Forest.”

If this made any impression on the Dark Lord, he didn’t show it. “Increase the boy’s food intake,” he ordered. “I want the clone in perfect health.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Show me the training.”

Damn, he’d hoped that it wouldn’t happen until later. He set down the knife and swept to the Dark Lord’s side, subtly calming himself and focusing his memories.

The Dark Lord grabbed his face with his cold hands and this time, as before, when he threw the memories of raping Potter to the forefront of his mind, it was enough to distract the Dark Lord, making it easier to conceal what needed to be hidden. It worked so well that when the Dark Lord released him, he didn’t feel sick at all. As much as he hated to admit it, if showing the Dark Lord rape distracted him this much, then continually raping Potter was the best idea he’d had. He couldn’t keep Obliviating the boy, especially after the conversation they’d had the day before.

_“Wait a minute...” called Potter. “You cook? What about your house-elves?”_

_How could he remember that lie? Was he remembering that? It had to be something else. “I told you, Potter,” Severus said, trying to put as much conviction into the words as he possibly could, “I don’t have house-elves.”_

_“What? But you said-” His brow furrowing, Potter cast his eyes to the side like one trying to recall a vaguely held memory._

_Shit. Shit. Shit. He’d removed those memories entirely! “I certainly never said that I did.”_

The Dark Lord said, “You’ll be granted the pleasure of torturing him next. Be certain to do something that can be fully healed before the next day.”

Perfect. Severus smiled. “I will, my Lord. Thank you.”

The Dark Lord vanished.

Severus counted to ten, then hurried to his lab. The clone had been dumped on the table like a discarded piece of clothing. The wide-opened eyes stared at the boiling cauldrons while the feet, blackened with debris from the floor, pointed in different directions. Carefully, Severus closed the eyes, then used magic to transport the body to a specially prepared box. Although this clone would probably have to be destroyed, he could still use it to check for further problems that would only reveal themselves with time.

Since the project had been such a success, after he’d finished his chores for the day, he ordered the most expensive food and wine he could, and retired to the library to read for pleasure. As he ran his fingers over the titles, searching for the perfect book, he ran across one he hadn’t thought of for quite some time: _Frankenstein_.

This version matched the one Lily had given him for his fourteenth birthday. Although the original had been destroyed during one of mother’s fits, he’d read the inscription and the book so many times that when he opened the new book, he could picture her inscription clearly in his mind, as if it had been written on this version as well.

She’d always sensed - and feared - the darkness inside of him. If she could see him now, what would she think of him? Would she see him as the scientist, so focused on what he could do, he never thought about what he ought to do? Arrogant, daring, and completely blind to how his actions destroyed everyone around him. Or as the poor creature, naturally intelligent and kind, but driven to monstrosity through rejection and intolerance. Either way, she’d be utterly repulsed by his latest project. He’d have to sabotage the development of the clones to be certain that, no matter what happened, no one other than he could ever use them.

He dimmed the lights to a comfortable level, lit a magical fire, and sat down to read.

 

_Please review!_


	23. Chapter 24

Finally. A few hours alone. Severus threw himself on his bed and breathed a deep sigh of relief. He still needed to work on the potions, place orders, update Albus, clean the den, and send his newest acquisitions to Draco. At the moment, he couldn't be arsed. Too tired to even sit up, he undid his boot laces with magic, and kicked his boots off his feet.

Really, he'd been downright suicidal to agree to spend several hours a day interacting with Potter. He did what he could, including trying to convince Potter that more time was passing than actually did, and reading books when spells would hide his inattention, but he couldn't keep up his potion requirements and pretend to train Potter. It wasn't as if he could easily cut down the hours spent with the boy. Not if he wanted to wean him off calming potions, as he’d promised Albus, and to meet the Dark Lord's expectations. The Sex Potion left Potter moody afterwards, but he couldn't forgo _that_. When Potter thought he'd be trained, he bounced on his heels, his entire body thrumming with excitement like that of a puppy about to be taken on a walk. He loved it and it was the only way Severus knew to naturally raise his serotonin levels. Without the training, Potter would've immediately tried to escape when left 'alone' for a few minutes. Still, the instruction had to be the most obnoxious, worthless 'class' he’d ever led, and he'd taught a lot of idiotic first-years.

Sliding a hand into his robes, he fetched the book he'd rescued from Potter's foul clutches. Although it wasn't hers, the moment he'd realised Potter's intention to grab it, he knew he had to rescue it. He couldn't have the boy destroy any more memories of her. Too exhausted to even read, he floated it to the desk.

He wanted to sleep. How many hours had he slept these past three days? Five? He couldn't even remember. Forcing himself upright, he set up his wards, changed into his night clothes, and set Albus's portrait up on the desk.

Albus was waiting, the line between his eyes dark. "I've been worried."

Sighing, Severus ran his finger around the edge of his empty glass. He longed to drink, but it would put him straight to sleep. "I've been 'training' Potter in addition to my regular duties."

Nodding encouragingly, Albus asked, "How is that going?"

"Well. He enjoys it even when he's frustrated by his progress." He needed to crawl into bed and pass out. Time to hurry this up. "I'd like to give Draco an opportunity to gain the Dark Lord's favour. It has to be something which can be connected to me, but won't initially alert Lucius or Narcissa to my involvement."

Albus blinked rapidly. "Draco hasn't left Hogwarts." 

"I know." Severus tapped the Marauder's Map. "I've been keeping track of the students. Perhaps he could uncover an Order hideaway in the remains of the old Herbology storage shed on the east side of the Forbidden Forest."

Albus's eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead. "I'm not sure it's safe for a student to venture there alone...."

Of course not. How stupid and callous did Albus think him to be? "He wouldn't be alone. It would be quite simple to send a house-elf after him to protect him. I do plan these things, Albus."

His bushy eyebrows rising in concern, Albus asked, "When did you last sleep?"

Fucked if he knew. He rested his head in his hand and rubbed his temples. "I shouldn't have decided to 'train' the boy. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You were thinking that Harry needed a friend. Now, sleep."

Not until he got what he wanted. "I need to earn Narcissa's trust-"

"I'll help you," agreed Albus, nodding his head in support. "As long as you promise me Draco won't be removed from Hogwarts should he prove himself valuable."

Why were these _children_ given more consideration than him? Never mind, he had to focus on his work.

"I promise," he said. He set up the mirror and crawled into bed. "I'll wake in six hours." He fell asleep almost instantly.

~

Although Potter became most agreeable when under the influence of the sex potion, he still had numerous annoying habits. Chief amongst them was his lack of regard for Severus's safety.

Potter grabbed Severus by the robes and yanked him forward, knocking his forehead against a bedpost.

Ow, damn it.

"Potter," he said as he grabbed the wriggling boy and pushed him to the head of the bed. "Must I always tie you up?" Holding his wrists down, he cast the chaining spell and sat up to take off Potter's bottoms. Potter twisted and pulled against his bonds, muttering under his breath.

"Stop squirming." Somehow, he managed to pull the bottoms off of Potter's wandering legs, causing Potter to comment, "My favourite part." What was? Getting naked?

A wayward knee slammed into his side and he crawled over Potter, pinning him down with his own body. _Foreplay first_. He sucked a pebbled nipple into his mouth, drawing a moan from Potter's throat.

"Sinful."

It certainly was.

Suddenly, Potter stilled. "Don't drink my blood," he said, worry throughout his voice.

Where had that come from? "I won't," Severus promised, his attention on the warm body beneath him.

"I'm not a virgin."

Sometimes, Severus was tempted to use Legilimency just to see what sort of nonsense went on in that drugged, thick head. As it was, he had no desire to increase the amount of time spent in this act. "I'm aware of that fact," he said.

"Honey," breathed Potter, his chest pressing up against Severus's mouth, his skin feverish. "Eyes. Want."

If that babbling was anything to go by, Potter was relaxed enough, despite the reduced amount of the Sex Potion. Still, he wanted to be certain that he didn't hurt the boy. Slowly, he danced his fingers over the burning skin, trailing circles as he slowly worked his way down to between the boy's legs.

"Lower! Lower! Fuck! I need you to touch my cock!"

He had to be ready for penetration. Severus Summoned the lube and opened it. He'd placed an aphrodisiac in his arm, just in case, but he didn't need it. As soon as he smelled the strawberry, his body remembered what would come next.

Ignoring the heaviness of his cock, he cast the spells as he oiled up a finger and slid it into Potter.

"Too long," complained Potter, his body thrusting back against the finger as he tossed his head from side to side. "Just stick it in!"

Severus refused to hurt him. Even though the rings of muscle easily gave way, he still followed the instructions, adding a second and a third finger before he judged Potter ready. Not wanting to meet her eyes, he released Potter from the chains to flip him over.

One second Potter was on the bed, the next he had attached himself to Severus like a lamprey, his tongue darting out to taste Severus's mouth and jaw. Merlin's balls, the potion made Potter _mad_.

As quickly as the attack had begun, it ended. Potter stopped still, his grip relaxing as he stared at Severus with pupils so large, the irises were just thin slivers of green and gold. "You have to open your mouth."

Damn it, he had to concentrate. He had to find this display arousing. Closing his eyes, he kissed Potter, his body igniting again at the shuddering moans Potter made despite the sloppiness of his puppy kisses.

Limbs wrapped firmly around him and he carefully disentangled himself and turned Potter around to chain him to the wall.

"No," gasped Potter, struggling against Severus's firm grip. "Whip. Back. No. No."

Casting the chaining spell, Severus assured him, "I'm not going to whip you. Relax."

"No, not this!"

If he wasn't relaxed, penetration would hurt. Sighing to himself, Severus released the chains and found himself tangled in Potter's legs.

"Look at me," said Potter.

And see her eyes? "No." He managed to free himself and flipped Potter over.

"No, not this one!"

Apparently Potter wasn't going to just shut up and take it, but from the floppiness of his movements, the muscle relaxant should be in full effect. Severus needed to hurry this up, before he lost his erection. He held Potter down as he undid the buttons over his groin.

"No! On my back!"

Severus closed his eyes as he sank into the delicious heat of Potter's body. If he ignored the whimpering, he could pretend he was buggering a woman.

Potter's arse tightened. "No. I can't come like this."

If Potter fussed more, he might tense up to the point of hurting himself. After burying himself, Severus held Potter securely against his chest and turned them both on their sides. If this didn't work, he'd just have to bugger the boy quickly.

A contented little sigh escaped from Potter as his body relaxed.

It was an awkward angle with their size difference and, even holding Potter's hip steady, he had trouble thrusting, but Potter loved it if the happy little noises were anything to go by.

"Warm. Secure."

His eyes tightly closed and his mind shut against Potter's incessant babbling, Severus imagined a woman on his cock as he thrust. He tried his best, but with the awkward angle, he couldn't imagine ever finding release in this position. Not wanting to deal with the Devil's Snare that Potter became when horny, he released the boy's hip for his fat prick and wanked him.

"Fuck! Yes! Yes! Fuck, yes!"

His fingers found a nipple and then Potter's body clamped down around him, rhythmically pulsing in nearly too tight waves of pressure. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the sensation, trying not to give in to his urge to just shove Potter on his stomach and ravage him. When the tremors subsided, he carefully withdrew, then pushed Potter up on his hands and knees before thrusting in again.

This was how fucking should be. Even with the gender problem, an arse was an arse and Potter's welcomed Severus easily. Potter voiced his pleasure and Severus wanted to just pound into him. To stop himself from hurting the boy, he held Potter's torso in place with one arm and fucked him as hard and as fast as he could within the limited range of movement.

Potter cried out with each ramming stroke, his breath catching in his throat and his body limp. Even though Severus was holding back, it was still damn good, better than he'd had in a while, and he quickly finished himself off, pouring himself out into that hot, tight channel. He muffled his urge to groan in a light bite on the salty skin of Potter's neck.

Damn. When was the last time he'd felt so relaxed? Not for a year, at least. Carefully, he withdrew, then lay down on the bed to catch his breath.

Potter, ever the leech when under the potion, attached himself to Severus. With the afterglow fading, Severus realised how sweaty he was and figured Potter wouldn't want to stay attached to him for long. He probably smelled terrible. Although he couldn't stand the thought of undressing and being so vulnerable in front of Potter, the heavy robes trapped a lot of heat, even though he'd charmed them to weigh far less than they should. He needed a shower and a cold drink.

First though, he had to be certain Potter was safe. Depression seemed to have been the extent of Potter's ill reactions to the potions, but Severus still pressed his hand against Potter's skin and ran the basic tests. Everything fine. Although Potter's heart hammered in his chest, the rate soon fell within normal range, slowing by the minute.

Potter, still muttering, lifted his head slightly and Severus caught him saying, "If Voldemort shows up, I'm telling him to fuck off."

Severus felt much the same. "I don't think he'd appreciate that."

"I'm going to stay here forever."

He'd placed his hand over the small of Potter's back in order to monitor him and now that he had checked all that he needed to, he became aware of the small bumps of bone underneath the warm, slightly wet skin. He closed his eyes as he explored the spine, absently counting the lumbar vertebrae. "I'm sure the call of nature will propel you out of bed eventually."

"No one's ever held me like you do."

No one? He'd heard from Albus and he'd seen enough in the Occlumency lessons to know that Potter had been abused by that bitch Petunia and her rotten family, but surely she'd held him when he was little. Surely Molly Weasley and her overpopulated family had given him physical affection.

"Maybe my parents," said Potter, his voice calm and without a trace of bitterness. "But I don't remember. Hermione was the first person who hugged me and I thought it was very strange."

_Damn it, Albus. You knew how damaged he was. You used him like you used me. Giving him a taste of affection and attention, but never enough, leaving him starved. Starved enough to seek comfort from his rapist_.

"Snape?"

And here he was, taking advantage of a broken child. Thank Merlin that the Sex Potion’s bonding effects didn’t seem to last after the potion had left Potter’s system. "You should sleep." He pushed Potter away and moved to the edge of the bed as he tucked himself away.

"I want you to stay here."

"No, you don't." Severus stood and smoothed down his robes, unable to look back at Potter and see those innocent eyes. If only he hadn't made that promise to the Dark Lord! Perhaps he could somehow find a way out of it. It was better if Potter viewed him as an enemy. If Potter craved his affection this much, then he could be made to crave it from anyone, even Lucius. "The drugs make you temporarily more agreeable to anyone or anything, but you will return to yourself once they wear off. Sleep now, we will train tomorrow."

~

Albus settled into his chair and asked, "How have things been between you and Harry?"

"Fine," said Severus as poured himself some Scotch. He could see Albus's eyebrows lifting, so he added, "I shot him a few days ago-"

"You _shot_ him?" Severus had never seen Albus look so surprised.

"With a paintball gun. It was harmless." He should never have mentioned it.

"Did he know it was a paintball gun?"

"Not at first. He was disrespectful."

How long had it been since Albus had given him that look? "Harry was disrespectful? You don't say."

"Look, I hadn't slept for a few days and he deserved it." He deserved more than that, the little snot. "I took him training afterwards. He was fine." Potter had been more than fine. If he'd had a tail, he'd have wagged it. "And he still hasn't learned enough to keep his foolish mind shut in front of the Dark Lord. I had to cast the Cruciatus on him myself since he treated the torture session with Draco as something as a joke. If he doesn't guard himself-"

"Not the Cruciatus," gasped Albus. "Do you really hate him that much?"

He hadn't intended to spend the entire conversation defending himself or his actions. Next time, he wouldn't mention his punishments. For now, he had to defend himself. "Albus, how long have we been telling him to keep his damn mind shut? How many hours did I spend in those ridiculous Occlumency lessons? You’d think he would have learnt his lesson when Black died, but if anything, he's just grown cocky."

"Not everyone can master Occlumency."

"Rubbish. It's just a matter of will and discipline. If he actually practised, I'm certain he could master it. This morning, he woke up early and rather than read or do something sensible, he kept banging his fists against the bars, making it impossible for me to read my post. Now he's pouting in his bed - not because I yelled at him - but because his training wasn't up to his own satisfaction. I tried to console him, but he's in that mood again, and I've no idea how to help him out without more calming potions." Sometimes he was tempted not to bother trying to keep Potter happy; after all, the boy would most likely die in a few weeks. However, if there was any chance Potter would survive, Severus had to do his best to make sure he didn't permanently damage him.

"He's had more than enough."

"I can't rape him without the potion and keep his trust. He needs calming potions to restore his serotonin levels. I'm working on a better potion, but it's a tricky thing to manipulate."

"Isn't there some way that you can interact with him as a person-"

"How do you think I'm interacting with him? I don't treat him as a slave, object, or pet." Although Potter did increasingly remind him of a puppy: eager to be taken for 'walks' and prone to making messes when left unattended.

"You are not his equal when you train him, but his instructor. Perhaps you could do household chores with him. Surely Voldemort would allow that. Have him cook or clean whilst you do the same. Let him see you as an equal."

"And lose all the respect I've gained?"

"You won't," Albus easily assured him. "Respect goes both ways, Severus. You don't need to be dominant to him to have his loyalty and trust. At least let him feel like a person again, if only for a moment." He paused and then, in a hesitant tone, asked, "Have you successfully made a clone?"

Albus hated the Clone Potion. They'd already rowed over it a few times, even though Severus had sworn on Lily that he'd never let the Dark Lord inhabit Potter's body. "Not entirely," he said before he finished his drink. "The bodies all break down within a few days." He'd been burying them in the garden. "I suspect that the growth potions I use never fully leave the cells, causing them to turn cancerous." In the wizarding world, cancer was usually caught early and contained or, if small enough, eradicated. If left untreated, it raged through the system, apparently feeding on magic. Young's father had written several articles on how the need for secrecy between wizards and Muggles killed countless Muggles. Every single mediwizard knew how to perform the Cancer Scan, which took minutes. Even if only the high-risk cancer Muggle patients were scanned, it would still save millions of lives. Yet, because of the secrecy laws, only rogues dared give wizard health care to Muggles.

Despite everything, he still held fast to the desire which drove him to enslave himself in the first place: a desire to eradicate all the walls between the Muggle world and the wizarding world. Knowing human and wizard history, it would be a nasty, brutal birth costing the lives of millions, but oh, the potential!

Albus nodded. "I was afraid of that. Still, please do what you can to spend some time with Harry."

"I'll do my best," said Severus.

Of course, Potter didn't make it easy. When Severus headed to the basement to feed him breakfast, he didn't move from his position where he lay in bed, pouting at the ceiling.

"Are you still wrapped in the throes of adolescent angst?"

Potter whinged, "You're the only one I have helping me and you'll probably just kill me after I beat Voldemort."

Potter wouldn't be dying _afterwards_ , but informing him of that would have the opposite effect to what Severus wanted. "I can assure you, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley have not forgotten about you."

"How would _you_ know?" Potter rolled over on his side, his back to Severus. "You've been here the whole time just like I have."

_Because I’m not an idiot._ "Do you think the other Death Eaters visit me just to drink tea?" Severus asked impatiently. "Your friends are doing their best to prepare for the destruction of the Dark Lord. If you wish to make their efforts worthless, then by all means lie in bed all day and refuse to eat. If you do not care about the lives already lost, then continue to mope. However, you will gain nothing and lose everything. You are being kept alive right now to serve a specific purpose. Eventually, the Dark Lord will no longer need you for that reason and he will allow you to be hurt continuously. Instead of being given to a Death Eater for a few hours a night, you will be given to one for days or even weeks at a time. I will no longer be able to protect you then and they will be allowed to do whatever they like as long as you live."

"If you are trying to cheer me up, you are failing miserably."

As much as he wanted to just drag Potter out of bed and force his lazy arse to train, he'd promised the Dark Lord he'd show improvement. "If you expect me to hold your hand and assure you that everything will be all right you have failed to realize the gravity of the situation. Either you will be a toy to be used and abused until someone takes it too far and accidentally kills you, or you can fight against Voldemort in a final battle that will probably end up causing the deaths of more of your friends and loved ones."

"I KNOW!" Potter cried, his fist pounding the blanket. "I know it's going to be shit no matter what. I know I'm fucked over no matter what I do. I know people are going to die. I know I have to train. It's just...." He swallowed. "You're the only one I know is helping me. And I train because I don't have anything else to do, but how do I know you won't just bring me before Voldemort one day and both of you will laugh at me, and I will find it's all been a cruel joke?"

It was all a cruel joke. In some part of that thick mind, had Potter actually realised that the training wouldn't really work? Severus needed to give him something to make him forget about his training for a while. However, the lab was off limits. Perhaps he should try what Albus had suggested and cook with Potter. "Come with me, Potter. You may keep your clothes on."

Grudgingly, Potter trudged after him. Not trusting him to behave, Severus cast the chaining spell and, when Potter hesitated, pulled him along. As they neared the throne room, Potter dug in his heals. "Don't-"

"I won't hurt you now."

Other than a little half-shake of his head, Potter gave up resisting and let himself be dragged into the kitchen where he followed Severus's order to wash his hands.

Once Severus had Potter chained to the table, he said, "You'd be useless in the practice room today and I'll not let you mope in your cell. You will work for me. Have you ever cooked before?"

His brow furrowed, Potter blinked rapidly. "Yeah, I made meals for my relatives."

"Have you ever made bread?" He'd been too busy to make any himself recently and even an idiot like Potter would find it difficult to ruin.

Potter shook his head. "We always bought it."

"You will make fresh loaves."

His eyes narrowing to thin slits, Potter asked, "How can I do that while chained to the table?"

"You will mix the ingredients and knead the dough for me." Remembering how much of a mess Potter often made just eating, Severus said, "Just a moment," and left for his room where he changed into Muggle clothing, grabbing an apron from the laundry for Potter. Cleaning it with a spell, he returned to the kitchen and tied it on Potter before fetching the ingredients.

Potter, even with his poor eyesight, did his best to measure the ingredients exactly. He paid more attention to measuring the flour than he'd ever paid in the Potions lab. Since he behaved himself, Severus let him grate cheese as he waited for the dough to rise. When it had risen, he returned it to Potter who sunk his fingers in the mess as if it were a bowl of water. When he seemed to be playing with the dough rather than kneading it, Severus took over for him.

"Here's how you do it." He gave it a few turns before pushing it back towards Potter. "Now you try."

Clumsily, Potter did a half-arsed job of kneading it.

"Much better," Severus lied.

Potter slammed the dough against the table and Severus, fearing for the outcome, said, "There's no need to beat it into submission yet." He retrieved the dough and made sure it had been fully kneaded before he let Potter butter the bowl.

As Potter's body hadn't lost any of its mopey tension, Severus grabbed the blueberries he'd intended to use for a pie and let Potter pound them into mush whilst he planned the next set of meals.

After the blueberries had been utterly pulverised, Potter pushed the bowl away and his stomach growled.

" _Accio apple!_ "

Potter practically snatched the fruit out of Severus's hand. He had to be hungry; he hadn't eaten in half a day.

After fetching Potter his own unfinished lunch, he prepared tea and joined him at the table.

After several minutes of blissful silence during which Severus read, Potter asked, "D'you make all your bread from scratch?"

Without looking up from his book, Severus answered, "Yes, I find it is far superior in taste to the kind available at most shops."

"Where did you learn how to cook?"

_Here._ "It's very similar to potion-making. I started with recipes and then learned the properties of the different ingredients. It's all a matter of paying attention to details."

"I always hated cooking. It's probably a lot more interesting when you make things you want to eat instead of what other people want."

"It is." Since Potter seemed determined to talk, Severus put away his book and cleared their empty dishes. He fetched the dough for Potter to mangle.

"Wow," said Potter, his eyes comically wide at the sight of the risen dough. One would have thought he'd just discovered magic. "Is it supposed to do that?"

"Yes, yeasts are microorganisms which convert sugars to carbon dioxide. The production of carbon dioxide causes the bread to expand." Dumping the dough out on the table, he punched it to show Potter how much of it was composed of gas. "Now we have to get the bubbles out." Dividing the loaf in half, he passed Potter one ball. Immediately, Potter attacked it, pummelling his fists into it as if he thought it might try to leap off the table and bite him. When he finally pushed the well-beaten dough away from him, most of the tension had left his body, although his shoulders remained stiff.

As much as Potter seemed to be helped by cooking, Severus had to return to his lab. The clone potions would need his attention soon. Returning Potter to his cage, he gave him cleaning supplies and asked him if he'd prefer to be raped that night or the next morning.

When Potter mumbled, "It doesn't matter to me," Severus chose that evening. He had work to do, and potions could ease Potter's reluctance.

He added a mild aphrodisiac and a calming potion to Potter's dinner. As the aphrodisiac he'd chosen needed to be fully absorbed to take effect, he had Potter bathe first.

Of course. Potter had to be difficult when the time came for sex. "You have to take off your clothes this time."

"No."

"Yes!" insisted Potter, red splotches rising in his cheeks. "It's not fair that I am the only one naked! If I have to be completely exposed then you do too!"

Knowing the little shit, he'd probably refuse to do anything until Severus undressed. Perhaps Severus should cast spells and only pretend to undress, but touch would reveal the illusion. Besides, transfiguration could damage the delicate potions he kept in his undergarments. As much as he hated the idea of being stripped naked, what if the Dark Lord, sensing his abhorrence for nudity, demanded he do so during a throne room performance? Severus's stomach twisted. He would not go before the Dark Lord without his hidden wand and potions! He ought to pretend he cared not a whit about his own nudity.

"Fine," Severus agreed. "But I will only undress after you take the potion."

"Okay, but if you cheat I will bite off your penis!"

"I'm never letting your mouth near my groin," Severus assured him.

Luckily, Potter didn't seem interested in watching him disrobe. The boy gulped down the potion and undressed. Turning away from him, Severus reinforced the wards before stripping out of his own clothes. With the removal of each garment, the temperature in the room seemed to drop lower and lower. Perhaps this had been a mistake. The Dark Lord viewed too quickly to be listening to every word, so he wouldn't even know what the fight had been about unless he pried.

No. He had to make certain that nothing could be used against him. Not giving himself time to hesitate, he tore off his shirt and undershirt, then kicked off his boots and removed his trousers. Despite his discomfort and Potter's skinny body, his cock pressed against his smalls in anticipation of what was to come.

A low moan emerged from Potter's throat and Severus yanked off his smalls, joining him on the bed.

Rolling on his back, Potter sat up and stared at Severus with drugged eyes. All of a sudden, his hand darted out and grabbed Severus's cock.

It was so unexpected, Severus froze for a moment, unable to do anything but ask, "What are you doing?"

"Squishy," said Potter, his eyes fixed on the organ he held firmly in his hand. He bent down, whether to bite it or suck it, Severus had no idea, but he didn't want either of those options. As firmly as he could, he held Potter in place with one hand and pried him off with the other.

His cock freed, he repeated, "What are you doing?"

"I have to get close to see," said Potter, as if that should be perfectly obvious.

"You don't need to see." To distract him, Severus turned him around and pulled him back into his lap. This close, Potter's smell filled his nostrils. Underneath the soap and shampoo was the boy he'd fucked repeatedly and his cock twitched at the memory of all those past events. His hands roaming up and down Potter's lean torso, he closed his eyes and fastened his mouth around a bit of that clean, soft skin, drinking in the taste and smell of him. He had to train his body to respond to Potter's smell and taste as strongly as Potter responded to the potion.

Potter's warm fingers curled around his wrists, guiding him to the pebbled nipples. "Here, touch me here."

"Like this?" he asked, rolling the hard nubs between his thumbs and forefingers. He needn't have asked; Potter's loud moan told him exactly what he needed to know.

"Yes, just like that." Potter pressed back against him, his bum wiggling eagerly in Severus's lap. "Go inside ... I want you inside."

With the reduced amount of potion, he’d expected Potter would resist more, but perhaps the boy's body had been better trained than he thought. Not wanting to waste time with Potter so agreeable, he pushed him up on his knees and Summoned the lube.

Thrusting out his bum, Potter spread his legs. His breath hitched slightly when Severus cast the cleaning and lubrication spells, but he was so relaxed that Severus could fit a second finger inside of him before he'd finished penetrating him with the first. He wanted it. He wanted to be fucked.

If the encounter had been consensual, Severus would have grabbed his hips and fucked him raw. Instead, he had to follow the routine, lest he find himself back at step one. Quickly, he added a third digit, stretching Potter once before withdrawing.

He ought to go slow. He ought to be gentle. When he pressed his cock against that tight pucker, he just wanted to fuck it. He forced his way inside with one hard thrust that buried him completely and drew a groan from Potter's lips. He hadn't hurt him, had he? To be on the safe side, he petted Potter's thighs as he looked for signs of tension or pain. Instead of complaining, Potter shifted his hips, trying to fuck himself on Severus's cock.

Severus gave it to him as hard as he dared. Despite all the times Severus had raped him, Potter had never learned how to properly take a dick, and the small dose of potion could wear off any second.

"Oh god oh god oh god oh god!"

Oh fuck! This was just what he needed! The mindless bliss of fucking a receptive, eager partner. Potter's body clenched around him as he came with a wordless cry and collapsed. Not finished yet, Severus propped him up as he drilled into him, his mind devoid of anything but how it felt to fuck that tight little arse.

Potter gave a little groan and that was enough to push him over the edge.

"Fucking is better than training."

Bloody hell! He released Potter, dropping him down on the bed. "You . . . You . . . You stupid boy, I warned you from the beginning that you have to watch what you say. We will have to attempt this again tomorrow." Damn it! While the Dark Lord knew about the training, and words weren't 'seen' in Legilimency, even an idiot like Potter would realise Severus had lied about the training being secret if no cover-up followed.

"I don't mind." Stupidly content, Potter flipped over and launched himself at Severus.

Shoving him away, Severus left the bed and yanked on his clothing. "You don't mind now, but tomorrow you will be angry and blame me, even though I specifically told you not to mention that." He didn't dare give him the sex potion a second time. They'd have to perform without. Damn it. How could Potter be so thick-headed? Just when Severus thought he couldn't think less of Potter's intelligence...

"It's okay, really. Please don't leave."

"You will hate me again in the morning."

"I don't hate sex, Snape."

_Because of the potion, you stupid brat!_ "Of course you don't hate sex! It's because of that drug I gave you. I shouldn't have done that. I should've found some other way. We will stop it immediately."

"No, I need it!" Potter launched himself to the edge of the bed. "I won't say anything tomorrow. I swear. Please?"

Smoothing down his hair and robes, Severus considered. He didn't trust Potter, but the boy would probably start crying if he tried to rape him without the potion. "Perhaps I will gag you." Maybe he could use this to bribe Potter out of his ennui. "If you behave tomorrow then I will give you the drug. If you do not, then we will try it without it. And by behaving I mean you will train instead of moping. Is that understood?"

"Yes, of course."

He'd just pretend to give him the potion. By now, Potter's body should be conditioned enough that the placebo effect would be sufficient. Casting the cleaning spells, he strode out of Potter's cage, confident he had nothing to worry about. Everything was in order.

However, that was before the Dark Lord learned that the Cup had been stolen.


End file.
